Warmth
by jamelia116
Summary: After B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris are stranded on planet with a severe climate and limited resources, they survive using "biological means." Upon returning to Voyager, they discover a changed relationship between Harry Kim and Kes, and their own lives become complicated by unexpected repercussions from their exercise in survival. P/T, K/Kes. First published in 1997.
1. Abandoned

**WARMTH**

**by J.A. Toner, a.k.a. "Jamelia"**

A note about chronology: "Abandoned" and "Shelter" take place a short time after the Star Trek Voyager episode, "Worst Case Scenario." "Separation" and "Vows" take place after the two-part episode, "Scorpion 1 & 2."

* * *

**ABANDONED**

"How's your footing, B'Elanna?"

"It's OK, Tom. How about yours?"

"Solid as a rock, as always, Torres."

Thomas Eugene Paris flashed a groaning B'Elanna Torres one of his trademark crooked grins to punctuate his reply. The helmsman and chief engineer of Voyager clung precariously to a craggy rock face, suspended above a narrow valley on the southern continent of the nameless fourth planet of the yellow-white star which was designated only as V3-F01-1572 by the staff in Stellar Cartography. They hadn't gotten around to giving the star an actual name either. If Voyager's sensors had not detected the presence of a very high grade of dilithium crystal on the planet's surface, the two lieutenants and their crewmates gathering tubers in the valley below would not have bothered to visit the star system at all. Since Voyager needed dilithium for its own warp engines and as valued commodities for trading, Captain Janeway had decided that this particular side trip would be worth the delay it would cause in their trip back home to the Alpha Quadrant. When the trip is expected to last 70 years or so, one week's delay to obtain a substance that will be needed anyway is a sacrifice easily made. If at the same time they could secure tasty edibles to supplement Neelix's food stocks, so much the better.

"Check your tricorder again to see how close we are to that formation, Tom."

He pulled the tricorder off his belt and held it over his head. "The readings are very strong directly above us, about 10 more meters from here." Carefully replacing the device, Tom inched up the cliff, fixing his feet in the crevasses in the schist, allowing his full weight on each foot before moving his hands gingerly up to a higher position. A glance down at his half-Klingon, half-human companion verified that she was being as careful as he in grabbing each handhold and foothold. Although the rocky surface was uneven enough to give them good footing, they did not want to take anything too much for granted, despite the safety line attaching them to one another. Neither wanted a repeat performance of the fall in the mines of the Sakari world. Neelix's plunge while they were rappelling down a steep mine shaft had endangered B'Elanna Torres' life, contributing one more complication to an away team mission that already had become fraught with difficulties. Because of all that had happened on that mission, this time B'Elanna had elected to bring along Tom alone when climbing the cliff, once it was clear that that was the only way the dilithium deposits could be reached.

"Warm enough, B'Elanna?"

"A little too warm, actually. It's a good thing we left the jackets at the base of the cliff." She slipped the front closure of her gray uniform down a hand-span below her neck. Catching another grin on Tom's face and knowing he was thinking about the last time she had worn this particular away team outfit, she added "Don't even say it, Paris."

He laughed. "This is great. I don't even have to say anything to you anymore to be branded a smart-ass. Pretty gneiss, don't you think?" He held up a small chunk of sparkling, speckled rock that had crumbled off the rock face into his hand.

She groaned at the bad pun. "They're getting worse all the time, Paris. 'We're starting with a clean slate'? 'My schisters would have loved this'? Please tell me you don't have one for sandstone."

"I'll granite you that, I don't have one for sandstone. Let me think . . . ."

" If we weren't tethered together I think I'd throw you down the cliff for that one." She was trying not to laugh. "I'm having enough trouble with keeping my breath without having to suffer through your bad jokes, too."

"I promise I'll be good."

"Sure, you will-until you can think up another one even more excruciating than the last!" she growled. Hearing her growl, he flashed her another brief look and winked at her, but this time, he caught himself before provoking her any further.

The past few weeks _had_ been good ones. B'Elanna might have accepted some of his invitations to dinner or his holodeck programs earlier if she had anticipated how comfortable they would become with each other, and so quickly. With his reputation as a mercurial womanizer, B'Elanna had expected she would have to fend off his advances at every turn. Instead, he had treated her like a buddy, almost the way he treated his best friend Harry. Almost, but not quite. She was always aware of his very attractive male physique and sensed he was just as attracted to her own strong but very female body.

There _was_ that bet he had won, of course, paid off in her participation in a Klingon martial arts program. Tom was a lot more enthusiastic about learning how to fight with a bat'leth than she was, and he had truly annoyed her with his pushiness. B'Elanna knew he was trying to appeal to her Klingon side, but she simply had no interest in honing that aspect of her nature. It only caused trouble. Of course, it was comforting that he didn't appear put off by it, most of the time, anyway.

His gentlemanly behavior had even inspired her to do a little research on the life and loves of Thomas Eugene Paris since he had come to Voyager. Her investigations had disclosed some unexpected facts about the helmsman's love life, proving once again the truth of the old adage, "Don't believe everything you hear."

While her thoughts had been on holodeck programs, dinners, and a blue-eyed enigma, the shelf Tom and B'Elanna had been climbing widened to a width that could easily accommodate their feet. Compared to most of the climb, traversing the last few meters of their trip was easy. Finally, she heard the welcome words, "I see the vein."

Scrambling up next to him, B'Elanna saw, near an intrusion of basalt, the tell-tale strip of blue/green/violet dilithium crystals that had been the goal of their search. She flipped her own tricorder open and smiled at what she saw. "This is it, Tom. Look at these readings!"

"There must be quite a bit here, unless the quality is even better than what we found in those asteroids two years ago." That terrific find had led to Tom's making the first successful transwarp flight by anyone in the Federation, though no one off Voyager knew of it. B'Elanna was surprised that he had alluded to it; he usually avoided any refererence to the incident because of his embarrassment over what had transpired afterwards.

The tricorders confirmed that a significant quantity of high grade dilithium crystals was embedded in the rock of the cliff. After bending down to clean the shelf upon which they were standing of any loose shards of rock, Tom climbed a little higher, above the crest of the anticline, and installed four pitons with safety lines attached. Since a failed piton had caused Neelix's fall, B'Elanna had agreed with Tom that depending upon Federation equipment to be foolproof was foolhardy. This time, there were two lines apiece for them to use in lowering bags of retrieved materials or for their own descents. This mission was not to have any complications if either one of them had anything to say about it.

As he started to lower himself back to the dilithium formation, Tom tapped his comm badge and signaled to the away team in the valley below them. "Paris to Neelix."

:::_Neelix here, Lieutenant_.:::

"We've found the dilithium, Neelix, and we're going to be excavating a fair amount of rock. You'll have to move your teams away from the cliff."

_:::Have no fear, Lieutenant. In anticipation of your need to remove extensive amounts of rock in your mining efforts, we started our food gathering at the cliff and have been moving steadily away from it, down towards the stream. I must say, Lieutenant, these tubers are going to be a marvelous addition to the menu. I'm planning on having roasted tubers with bilisberry sauce tomorrow. Tuber pie, baked tuber and leola root casserole will be__ . . . :::_

"Uh, that sounds great, Neelix. We can't wait. But I'm going to have to get to work now. B'Elanna's giving me a Janeway kind of stare, if you know what I mean."

:::_I understand perfectly, Tom. Neelix out_.::: Neelix did understand, having been on the receiving end of Janeway's legendary glares on more than one occasion.

"Tuber and leola root casserole. More wonderful delights from the kitchens of Chez Neelix." Warm brown eyes met clear azure as they laughed together. "Here, let me help you. B'Elanna," said Tom, as she fumbled to turn her backpack around without losing her balance on the shelf. Opening each other's packs and removing their phasers, they started the tedious task of cutting through solid rock to gain access to the treasured dilithium crystals that lay within the cliff.

* * *

"Enter," responded Kathryn Janeway to the signal from her ready room door. She smiled up at her first officer as he handed her a padd.

"Neelix just reported in about his crew. There's a large amount of some kind of edible tuber in that valley. Larson said that they tasted a lot like yams or sweet potatoes when they first reported finding them. They've already transported up a large quantity and are gathering more. He also reported that Paris and Torres have begun excavating the dilithium from the cliff."

"Wonderful. How are they all holding up physically? They can't gauge their workday by daylight hours alone down there."

"No complaints at the moment. None of them beamed down until it started to warm up in the valley, which was several hours after sunrise. Paris and Torres have been working about five hours down there so far; we'll encourage them to finish up in four hours or so. That way we will have a few hours before sundown as a buffer, in case they need more time. If necessary, we can send relief crews down for the food gatherers. By the way, Vorik's crew on the northernmost continent sent up more beryllium, but Molina's crew still hasn't been able to find much that's edible up there, even though it's late summer where he is looking. Seems there are so many insects that a lot of what appears to be promising is too chewed up to be worth the trouble to collect."

"Call them back, then."

"I was thinking of sending them south to join Neelix. I can have Harry scan to see if he can find a concentration of the tubers somewhere other than where Neelix is. We don't want to over harvest one area, for the sake of the local ecology." He considered his next words for a moment before adding, "Not that there isn't something odd about the ecology down there already. No trees, hardly any shrubs, no large animals and almost no small ones, a limited variety of vegetation. Yet the development of the species we have identified suggests that there should be a much greater variety on this planet than has been found there."

"Do you think this thin nebula the system is passing through has something to do with the unusual planetary conditions?"

"I'll have Harry run some scans and look into it, Captain. If there is a relationship, it could affect the away teams on the surface."

The captain leaned back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. "Chakotay, just how many of those tubers do we want on board? Given Neelix's proclivity towards getting 'carried away' with new foods . . . "

With an ingenuous expression on his face, Janeway's first officer replied, "You mean, you don't want to have sweet potato shakes and sweet potato pancakes with yamsickles for dessert?"

"Exactly," she returned dryly.

"Larson seemed pretty enthusiastic about them, and so were Kes and Wildman when they cooked up some of the first shipment. The Doctor tested a sample and assured me that they are nutritious, too. I don't think it's overuse of leola root in Neelix's meals that is the cause of all the complaints. The crew just doesn't like them, no matter how they are prepared. I heard that Neelix does have a long list of dishes he already wants to try with this root, but hopefully they won't become too tiresome. At least I hope not. Kes is already planning on planting some in the hydroponics bay."

"I want you to know, Commander, that I plan on making an entry in my personal log to remind myself about this conversation a few months from now. I want to be in a strong position to document 'I told you so' after a few hundred 'sweet potato-and-_' meals from Mr. Neelix."

Chakotay was still chuckling when he returned to the bridge.

* * *

"Tom, look at this one! This crystal could have kept the warp core going on one of those old Constitution-class vessels for a year!" Tom smiled at the excitement he could hear in her voice. Their bodies were sprawled full-length in the back of a narrow cave they had carved out of living rock while following the vein of dilithium deeper inside of the cliff.

With great care, B'Elanna extricated the large, beautifully shaped crystal of dilithium from the last fragment of schist holding it to the rock formation. Supporting himself on his elbows, the top of his head almost brushing the ceiling of their artificial cave, Tom accepted the crystal from B'Elanna. He wrapped it in packing cloth and slipped the now-protected crystal into a bag sent up by Neelix after they had created a sitting and working area at the edge of the cliff.

"B'Elanna, this bag is full enough to send down now, I think. Neelix was going to get lunch ready for his crew the last time I talked with him, and that was an hour ago. Unless you're going for some kind of endurance record, I think it's time we took a break."

"You're right. I'm not sure I feel much like eating whatever Neelix is feeding his crew, though." After Tom had backed out enough to permit her egress, B'Elanna commando crawled out of the inner recesses of their miniature mining operation. Both of them groaned in unison as they stretched out their arms, legs, and backs once they were able to sit upright.

"God, that feels good," said Tom. "When we get back on board Voyager, I'm going to go straight to Neelix's resort for a massage. Don't give me that look, Torres. A massage. A real massage, that's all. Unless, of course, you're volunteering for something more than that." He made a show of wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at her, prompting the smile from her that he had expected.

"Dream on, Paris," she said but suddenly grimaced and grabbed at her upper arm as she felt another cramp assault her already sore shoulder.

"I think you might need that massage right now, Torres." Tom changed his position to face her back. Gently but firmly he began kneading her neck, upper back, and shoulders. A bemused expression flitted across his face as the thought of indulging in mutual massages with the fiery but beautiful lieutenant crossed his mind. Unable to hold his tongue any longer, he asked, "Once I'm done with you, you wouldn't mind giving me a turn, would you?'

B'Elanna whipped her head around to get a good look at his expression. He had managed to assume an air of innocence that was not matched by the sparkle in his eyes.

"We'll be too busy digging out more crystals," she said archly. "Right now, I want to eat. I'm too hungry to mind what Neelix has chosen to poison us with today." She picked up the sack Neelix had used for sending supplies up to them. Digging into the bag, she found four wrapped sandwiches, several ration bars, a package of something that resembled lumpy fruit, a bottle of beverage, and two cups. "Lets see what this is." Unwrapping one of the sandwiches, she sniffed cautiously at it before declaring, "This one smells like fish. From Neelix?" she added, incredulously.

"I forgot to tell you. I sent Neelix some tuna salad I replicated for him to use when making our sandwiches. It's Neelix's version of bread, though. I didn't trust what Neelix would be sending us, either." He smiled sheepishly as he gave her a last rub down her upper arm. Sliding on his butt to the spot next to her on the shelf, Tom took the bag out of her hand and peeked inside.

"What are these things, anyway? Oh, I remember. He said he was going to send us up a sample of those tubers they've been digging out of the valley floor." Tom unwrapped the lumpy package and found a fuchsia-colored root, still slightly warm from being phaser-roasted by Neelix's crew. Breaking off a piece, he grinned at B'Elanna. "You will give a suitable eulogy at my memorial service if these turn out to be like 90% of Neelix's specialties?"

"Depends on whether you expect me to praise you to the skies or if you want me to be honest."

"I want you to be brutally honest, of course. Tell everyone, 'Here lies Tom Paris, Best Damn Pilot Who Ever Flew a Starship.'"

"And the most modest one, too, right Hotshot?" she sniggered.

"Just the truth, so help me, God." Assuming a noble, self-sacrificing pose, he picked off a piece of tuber, popped it into his mouth and began to chew.

"I think you can put that eulogy on hold, Torres. This is definitely a 10%-er. Not only edible, but good, too. Umm. Reminds me of Thanksgiving dinner yams. Taste a piece, B'Elanna."

"How do I know I can trust your tastebuds, Tom?" She laughingly feinted away from him as he tried to slip a piece into her mouth. They twisted about for a few moments in the close quarters of the hollow, but with his longer reach he was able to stuff a chunk between her lips without too much trouble. After she had chewed for a few seconds she admitted, "Kind of sweet. Not bad, I guess. I wouldn't want to live on a steady diet of it, though, and knowing Neelix . . . "

"Yeah, I think his favorite cookbook must be _1001 Ways to Overuse Any Ingredient_. I hope Tuvok decides to let him join Security. He's really better at that than cooking. And if you breathe a word of that to him, I will deny it, Torres. I wouldn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Even if he is such a trial to our stomachs, Paris?"

His mouth full, Tom shrugged his shoulders noncommittally until he managed to swallow. Finally, he managed, "Even if, B'Elanna . . . "

They munched away for a while, gossiping, teasing each other and chatting about everything and nothing - enjoying each other's company, if the truth be told, though neither one was willing to admit it to the other.

* * *

"Commander, Ensign Vorik's team has returned from the surface with the beryllium, but Lt. Carey reports that there still seem to be problems with the transporters," Harry Kim relayed from his bridge station.

"How long did it take this time?"

"The total transport time was 53% longer than expected for the mass of the team and the materials, Commander."

"That's even longer than when Molina came up. Has Lt. Carey come up with any hypothesis yet for the cause?"

"Not really. He's been in the transporter room for the last two hours running a level four diagnostic, but he hasn't found anything yet to explain it. It could be the atmosphere itself, Commander. We've had static over the comm lines to the surface most of the day, and it seems to be increasing." The young ensign spent a few moments calling up readings on his operations console before adding, "Commander, I just noticed something else. When Ensign Lang relieved me for lunch, she took solar activity readings. They're quite different from the current readings. There have been several small solar flares in the past three hours. With the gases in this system from the nebula, there may be a connection between the flares and the transporter problems."

"Mr. Kim, signal the other teams to finish up as soon as possible. If there is interference from the atmosphere, we want everyone back up here before it gets any worse. Better to be safe than sorry."

"Chakotay to Janeway."

"_Yes, Commander."_

"We need you on the bridge."

* * *

"Got it, Neelix?" Tom spoke into his hissing comm badge.

:::_Yes, Tom. I'll put this bag along with the rest of the transport. Are you going to be beamed up from the cliff, or will you be coming down here with us?:::_

"Rappelling down a mountain is the fun part of climbing! You know that."

:::_It wasn't so much fun for me last time, you know. You be careful, now, Tom. B'Elanna, too. Don't trust that Federation technology too much!:::_

"Don't worry, Neelix. We haven't forgotten about your fall. We'll be down in a few minutes. Paris out." He tapped off his comm badge. "Boy, there sure is a lot of static. Well, ready, B'Elanna? Time to . . . fall like a stone, how's that one?

"Paris, please!" Her grin conveyed her good humor, despite the bad puns. A successfully completed mission always put her in an expansive mood. Carefully checking her lines one last time, B'Elanna nodded her readiness to her partner. Cautiously at first, then with more enthusiasm as they found their rhythm, the lieutenants pushed their feet off the side and slipped down the cliff in a fraction of the time required to climb it earlier in the day.

Later, Tom could not say what made him look down at the valley floor when they were still less than halfway down. Neelix and Larson were standing in a trampled field strewn with what appeared to be strands of straw scattered around them. A few sacks and some digging tools lay by their feet. The flickering blue light of the transporter beam had already grabbed hold of them. He and B'Elanna were still about 20 meters above the base of the cliff when he turned around again. "B'Elanna, what's going on here? Look at Neelix and Larson."

The two crewmen were still standing where they had been, surrounded by an uneven glow of transporter beam that sputtered unevenly, as if in a titanic struggle with the valley itself for possession of the foraging party.

Impulsively jumping down the last few meters to the valley floor, B'Elanna pounded her chest to initiate communications with Voyager. "Torres to Transporter Room. What's going on?"

The badge crackled ominously, and the response was fragmented. :::_ . . . __trouble wi__ . . . __the transpor__ . . . __ can't kee__ . . . __a lock__ . . . __.:::_

"B'Elanna, they're still trying to transport the supplies as well as the crew," noted Tom. She could hear the concern in his voice.

"Don't worry about anything but the people, Ensign!" she yelled into her badge to the transporter technician at the other end. B'Elanna and Tom watched as the figures of Neelix and Larson completely coalesced on the surface again for several seconds before the beam enveloped them again. This time, the bags and equipment at the feet of the short Talaxian and tall human were being ignored in the same way that the piles of straw scattered around them on the ground were. Several more agonizing seconds passed before a last pulse of blue light surged and erased the figures of Neelix and Larson.

"Tranporter Room. Do you have them?"

:::_They're he__ . . . __., yes, Lieut__ . . . __nt Tor__ . . . __.:::_

"The interference is getting worse, B'Elanna." Tom pulled his tricorder off of his belt and checked the area. "Look at that - there's rough weather ahead." The sky that had been a clear bluish purple all day now roiled with angry orange clouds that swirled out of the western horizon. Pointing the tricorder away from his body, Tom slowly pivoted, taking readings of the entire area while B'Elanna's comm badge continued to sputter.

"Torres to Janeway. Captain? Can you hear me?"

* * *

"B'Elanna? Tom?" Several more seconds of crackling ensued before the low-pitched feminine voice of Captain Janeway demanded, "Mr. Kim, expand the wave frequency and boost the gain on this transmission. I don't think they can hear us any better than we can hear them." A few seconds later, after Harry bobbed his head, the captain tried again. "B'Elanna, can you hear me."

:::_Just bare__ . . . __aptain. There's lots__ . . . __static. Captain, I don't__ . . . __.want to try__ . . . __ansport under these__ . . . __ditions. Tom found evide__ . . . __.ave nearby__ . . . __.wait__ . . . __out.:::_

"Captain, another solar flare has formed and is shooting out of the star's corona. The nebula field again is igniting. We will have to raise shields if the ship is not to sustain further damage to the electronic systems." Tuvok's voice was as impassive as always, but the furrow between his eyebrows was deeper than usual.

Janeway nodded her head while raising her right hand in a gesture that Tuvok knew meant that he was to raise the shields. "B'Elanna, I'm sorry, but we won't be able to transport you off the planet. We've had to raise our shields. The solar flares are wreaking havoc with all our systems. I don't even know how much longer we can risk maintaining orbit. We can try sending you a shuttle." Even as she said it, Janeway knew from the looks exchanged between Harry and Tuvok, not to mention the feeling in her own gut, that that was wishful thinking on her part. With Voyager having trouble with the conditions in orbit, how much worse would it be for a shuttle trying to get down to the surface of the planet?

Tom's voice crackled over the comm line. :::_ . . . __too late for __ . . . __uttle flight__ . . . __.never make it ba__ . . . __.oyager_.:::

"I was going to send the shuttle down to serve as shelter for the two of you."

:::_Don't wor__ . . . __a cave here we can__ . . . __shelter. We'll be__ . . . __.right_.::: Tom's voice was fading now, as well as being obscured by static.

"Mr. Kim, did Paris say that there was a cave there?" asked Chakotay.

"Yes, sir. We picked up evidence of at least one cave in the area during our initial scans. Tom must have found it."

"B'Elanna, Tom. Take shelter. We'll pick you up as soon as the conditions permit." She waited a moment for acknowledgment of her message, but there was none. With a pained look on her face, the captain added softly, "Janeway out," to the harsh static rushing out over the comm lines.

A few seconds later, everyone on the bridge had to grab hold of a console or their seat as Voyager shuddered. Tuvok reported, "Captain, we can no longer remain in this system with any safety. The conditions within this nebula are too dangerous."

"Agreed." Janeway turned to her first officer. "Commander Chakotay, take the helm and get us out of here."

"Aye, Captain." As he stood before moving down to Tom Paris' usual station, Chakotay's eyes met those of Janeway. Leaving any of their crewmembers to fend for themselves under the hostile conditions facing them on this planet was painful to both commanding officers. To leave their personal reclamation projects Torres and Paris behind was torture.

* * *

"Did they say they were leaving orbit, Tom?"

"Sounded like it. It was pretty hard to hear. If the conditions are as bad as that static is telling us, though, I don't think they'd have much choice."

"I wonder how much damage there was to the ship when they had to leave the shields down for so long during the transport."

"At least they got back, didn't they?"

"Yes, but just barely. Look." B'Elanna held up a knapsack that either Larson or Neelix had had with them. The contents spilled out over the ground from a clean hole sliced in the bottom by the failing transporter beam.

"I thought that isn't supposed to happen with modern transporter technology. Wasn't 'All or nothing' supposed to be built in as a failsafe for the system?"

"It is, normally," she answered. "Whatever happened here obviously was _not_ normal."

"We'd better bring as much of this stuff back to that cave over there as we can, B'Elanna. I don't like the looks of that sky."

"I don't think I like this place. Brrr." Torres shivered. With the sun now being obscured by clouds, the temperature was dropping rapidly.

Stooping down, they each grabbed a couple of bags of tubers and their own knapsacks. B'Elanna carried the damaged pack that she had found, while Tom hoisted Neelix's picnic basket, the abandoned tools, and the last bag of dilithium crystals they had dug out of the cliff. They started to trudge to an opening in the cliff about two kilometers distant, their earlier cheerful mood gone. The sky that was now pulsing red and orange would have been beautiful if the brilliant colors had been due only to the sunset. Tom decided to raise their spirits with the one comment that he was sure would get a rise from his companion:

"So Torres, what is it with us and caves, anyway?"


	2. Shelter

**SHELTER**

"It doesn't look very deep, Tom," commented B'Elanna as she entered the cave. Depositing a sack of tubers and the two backpacks she was carrying on the floor inside the entrance, she rummaged through her pack and removed the light. Not bothering to attach it to her wrist, she flashed it around the cave. "There's one area far to the back that cuts into the mountain about 40 meters or so from the entrance," she went on, "but that shaft of light coming from the roof opens to the outside."

"It'll act like a wind tunnel during the night. I was hoping that this cave would be deeper than the tricorder said it would be, but it isn't. Where's a false reading when you really need one?"

"What is it, 18 hours of winter night to get through, Tom?"

"Yeah, we've got to find the most protected area of this cave to camp out in."

After switching on his own light, Tom circuited the small cave with B'Elanna. They had to be careful of their footing, as much of the cave had an uneven floor. In the back of the cavern, in a cul-de-sac formed by an outcropping of stone, they found a crack in the floor It was directly underneath the one in the roof but was out of sight somewhat from the main area of the cave. "Latrine area," declared Tom. B'Elanna agreed. Cold draft or not, it would be better to use for their needs than going outside would be.

"Tom, what about over there on the left, where the stalactites and stalagmites are in a line. That's almost a wall." They bent down and shone their lights inside. The lights revealed that the roof of the cave there was a mere meter and a half from its floor. The columns of stone enclosed an area a little under three meters in length and about two meters in width, but they could see that four other stalactites with their connecting stalagmites hung in the center of the space.

She sighed. "There isn't enough room for us to slide in there, out of the wind, is there?"

"No, the columns are in the way. The best place is against that side wall to the right, I think, where at least the floor is level."

"It's going to be in line with the draft."

"If you can find a better place, I'll be only too happy to go along with you."

They flashed the lights around for several minutes more. There was no better place in the cave.

"Do you want me to see if there is another cave nearby, B'Elanna?"

"I don't think it's worth the effort, do you? It's getting close to dark now. We don't want to be wandering around outside then. It's cold enough now."

Remembering that the half-Klingon engineer's body was less resistant to cold than his own, Tom agreed. They returned to the mouth of the cave and transferred the sacks of tubers and their meager supplies to the area of the cave where they would sleep.

"Inventory time, Lt. Torres?" asked Tom, as he sat beside her and leaned his back against the wall of the cave. B'Elanna was the nominal head of their two-person expedition. When she agreed, he emptied the damaged knapsack first.

"Let's see, we've got a change of underwear and socks. One spare gray turtleneck. One personal hygiene kit for male crew members. A comb. One mess kit. Three ration bars. A canteen with . . . ." He opened the stopper to sniff the contents. "with water inside. Terrific. I was hoping they would have left us something a bit stronger. One Starfleet All-Weather Sleeping Bag-Blanket. A padd - I wonder what it has on it. _Women Warriors at the River of Blood_ would be nice. I haven't finished that yet." Pulling the padd out of the backpack, Tom switched it on, making a face when he saw what it was. "It's a security manual. This must be Larson's pack; he was taking Tuvok's promotional course for prospective ensigns. I knew he was ambitious when he started showing up on the bridge as a backup. Okay, back to the inventory. Personal med kit. One pair lined gloves."

"Dibs on the gloves, Paris."

"Don't you bring your own?"

"I forgot them. I didn't expect to be here all night," she said defensively.

"You're going to be sorry. These won't be very warm. They're the lightweight ones." He tossed them over to her. "You may want to put these on with your climbing gloves for a little extra warmth, B'Elanna." He turned back to the contents of the backpack. "One deck Starfleet-issue playing cards. Guess we'll have something to do to pass the time, other than to sleep and eat. One wrist light. A spare power pack for said wrist light. That's handy, at least. He didn't even need to bring a light, let alone the spare power pack. What's this - oh, it's a pocket knife. And two candy bars, chocolate. Looks like we're going to have dessert tonight."

She smiled but would rather have had another half-dozen blankets than candy bars for dessert. "What did you bring with you, Tom?"

"Pretty much the same thing. My field medic kit is more complete that the personal ones and has a medical tricorder. I have an extra power pack for the phaser. I had three, but we used up two when we were cutting out the dilithium. I have the climbing equipment, with the pitons and cords and some cleats. No candy bars or playing cards though, and I don't have a padd. What about you?"

"The same basic stuff like the convertible blanket, mess and med kits, some ration bars and a little Tarkalian tea. I had five spare power packs for the phaser when we left the ship, but I used three of them cutting. The one in my phaser is full power, though. I've got a change of underwear, socks, and turtleneck, too. My wrist light and a spare power pack for that. Of course, I have the female version of the hygiene kit.

"I would think so."

"Is there any spare food?"

"What's in Neelix's lunch basket, B'Elanna?"

"Oh, forgot about the basket. He's got an old blanket in here. I guess they sat on it while they ate. It isn't one of those that can be made into a sleeping bag. He's got one, no, two sandwiches, about a dozen ration bars, another beverage container . . . . " She passed the container over to Tom so that he could check out its contents. "A cooking pot, it looks like. I don't know what he had planned on cooking! A small lighter to start fires. Some cups and plates and cutlery. And some more of those roots. They're soft, so they must be leftovers from lunch."

"You can use the extra blankets, B'Elanna. You'll need them."

"You're right about that. It's a good thing we never sent our cold-weather jackets back up to Voyager. I wish I had an entire environment suit right about now."

He leaned forward away from the wall. "Yeah, this stone is cold. If the cave had been deeper, we could have gotten into an area where the temperature was moderated, but this one's too shallow for that. We may need to use Neelix's blanket on the floor under us to help insula . . . " He stopped talking in mid-sentence and thought a moment.

"B'Elanna, I just had an inspiration. Insulation, and a soft bed, all in one. What about bringing in those piles of straw that are outside - you know, the stalky tops of the tubers. We could sleep on a haystack."

"That's a good idea, Tom. It's got to be warmer and more comfortable than the floor of this cave."

"We'd better hurry though. The straw is probably starting to blow all around."

Jumping to his feet, Tom held out his hand for B'Elanna to pull herself up. Without another word, they went out to gather up their bedding.

* * *

"It could have been much worse, Captain. At least we were able to limp out of the nebula on impulse before the more serious problems with the computer forced us to shut down propulsion." Harry tried to look optimistic, but the good news was meager, compared to the overwhelming problems that faced them. "Most of the damage to the Bioneural system was apparently caused when the shields were down for the transporter. The effect on the circuitry wasn't caught in time to prevent a cascade failure that spread throughout the ship's systems. Neelix and Larson were lucky to get here when they did. The transporter buffers went off line within seconds after they were on board."

"Where are we regarding repairs, Lt. Carey?" asked Commander Chakotay.

Torres' primary assistant in engineering consulted his padd. "We can use backups to reprogram all the systems, but before we can do that, we need to check on all of the circuits to make sure that they aren't damaged. In addition to the circuitry, a significant amount of damage was done to other parts of the ship by the ignited plasma. It's going to take a while to fix everything, and since all replicators are down at the moment, even on the holodecks..."

"The holodecks, Mr. Carey?"

"Yes, Captain, sometimes when we need a lot of parts we press the replicator function of the holodeck into service. It permits us to make larger parts, especially. Since they are off line, too, we will need to fix them before making new parts for other parts of system. At least the gelpacks themselves, were OK; only the linkages between them were damaged. They automatically disconnected to prevent damage to the gelpacks, which is what is supposed to happen - it's a protective system. That circuitry needs to be fixed before we will be able to make much headway on the rest of the ship. Estimated repair time is about six days, ship's time."

"Does that mean B'Elanna and Tom will have to spend four nights on that planet?" Neelix looked distressed.

"That is a minimum estimate, I'm afraid, Neelix. Even if we can get all of the repairs completed without any delay, Voyager can return to the planet only if the nebula has settled down by then. We can't risk a recurrence of the damage to our shields and systems."

"Captain, that means we also need to keep an eye on Tantrum in order to monitor the conditions inside the nebula," reported Harry Kim.

"What did you say?" asked the captain. 'Tantrum?'"

"Uh, sorry, Captain. That's what they're calling it down in Stellar Cartography. I think Megan Delaney christened it that," answered Harry.

A smile crossed the captain's lips for the first time at the meeting. "The name certainly fits! I think we should keep it."

Harry smiled back. "Stellar Cartography will be glad to hear it. Everyone was getting pretty tired of saying V3-F01-1472 all the time."

After a short pause while everyone acknowledged the name, Lt. Carey spoke up, "Captain, about observing the star, Ensign Myers and the crew in the shuttle maintenance bay have an idea. Since the shuttles are not connected directly to the ship, their systems sustained little if any damage. We can get them up and flying in a day or two, fit them with some extra long-range sensors, and keep an eye on Tantrum until Voyager is repaired enough to do it."

"Why not for a day or two, Mr. Carey?" asked Chakotay.

Lt. Carey looked sheepish. "Until the shields are working properly again, it wouldn't be a good idea to have the doors open anyway, but we can't even try. The shuttlebay doors won't open, Commander. We have to fix that circuitry, too."

The captain and the first officer exchanged an exasperated look with one another.

"Keep us informed, Lieutenant. Anything else?"

"Captain Janeway, pardon me for asking, but once the shuttles get out, can't you just send one to pick up Lt. Torres and Lt. Paris? I'd be glad to volunteer for such a mission, " said Neelix.

Janeway replied gently, knowing that while Neelix should have known the answer to his question already, the guilt he carried about returning to Voyager while Tom and B'Elanna had been forced to stay behind was preying on his mind. "That isn't practical. If there is another solar flare while the shuttle is in the nebula, more crew members would be put in danger, and in worse danger, frankly, than Lt. Torres and Lt. Paris are in right now. The shuttles have less shield capacity than Voyager."

"Wasn't the damage done because the shields were down, to permit the transport of Crewman Larson and myself?"

Tuvok looked at Janeway and Chakotay as he noted, "Much of it was, but the shields were also damaged by the interaction of the plasma fires on them, apart from whatever damage had occurred during the transport. While sending in a shuttle might be perceived by the crew as a positive step toward rescuing Lieutenants Torres and Paris, it would be an unacceptable risk." Realizing that the comments were for him, Neelix nodded reluctantly to acknowledge the Vulcan officer's statements.

Captain Janeway looked around at what remained of her senior staff. "Does anyone else have anything to report?"

Chakotay replied, "At least there is a little good news."

"What is it, Commander. We could use some right about now."

"Dilithium is one thing not in short supply, thanks to Torres and Paris." Everyone smiled.

Janeway met the eyes of her first officer, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Yes, thanks to Tom and B'Elanna. Anything else?" When there were no further questions or comments, the captain dismissed what remained of her senior staff, along with Carey and Hamilton, who were replacing Torres and Paris. As he was about to exit the conference room, Commander Chakotay heard Janeway's not quite contained sigh from where she remained seated at the conference table. He stopped at the doorway and turned to her, commenting lightly, "Five light years away, and it might as well be a hundred.

"Yes, Chakotay, it might as well be. I know we have a good crew, but some people, B'Elanna, especially, are more essential than most. Every time we are in this kind of situation, I have to admit how right you were in recommending her to become chief engineer. Carey is competent, but B'Elanna is so much more than that. She's creative, innovative. I know that this is no time to berate Lt. Carey for not being Lt. Torres - it isn't fair to Mr. Carey - but I admit I can't help thinking that she would find a way to get the ship repaired a little sooner."

"If the nebula doesn't settle down, the amount of time taken for the repairs won't really matter."

"True, Commander." She motioned him to walk with her to her ready room as she came to her feet. "But the worst thing is that we can't even get word to them about what's happened. I hope they don't think we've deliberately abandoned them."

"I doubt that, Captain. Paris knows that you could never do that, any more than B'Elanna would believe it of me, or of you."

She smiled slightly. "Does that mean you think Tom would think that you could be capable of leaving him behind?"

His dimples showed briefly. "We couldn't leave the Best Pilot in the Delta Quadrant to the fate of being stuck somewhere without anything to fly, could we?" The quick smile faded. "And I think he knows I wouldn't leave him behind, even if he might think it is only because I wouldn't leave B'Elanna. If I didn't know better, I would have trouble believing Tom was the same person who served with me in the Maquis. He's done such an about face in the last three years. If you knew him then, Kathryn, you wouldn't believe it was the same man, either."

"Maybe it only seems that way now that he's had an opportunity to show what the real Tom Paris is like. I know he certainly isn't at all like the man I met in prison. May I ask you if you have ever mentioned to him how your view of him has changed, Chakotay? I know the two of you have not always gotten along, but I also know that he respects you tremendously."

"Not in so many words, Captain, although I hope he knows my feelings have changed towards him. When he gets back on board, I'll see if we can sit down and have a talk - as long as he hasn't done anything to make me mad at him again."

Entering the ready room, the commander took his usual seat as the captain moved around to take her place behind the desk. "What I really wish we knew, Captain, is what kind of supplies they had available to them. We know what didn't come up with Neelix and Larson, but neither one was sure whether or not the missing items were on the surface for Torres and Paris to use. If they only have their own packs, the amount of power available to them to create a heat source may be extremely limited. Late winter, a day 33.4 standard hours long - I'm glad it isn't me down there."

"Me too. Let's see if we can come up with some projections about their power supplies. What did they requisition? What equipment and supplies were in the missing packs that Neelix and Larson weren't able to bring back?"

"Aye, Captain."

Spying a padd lying on her desk, Janeway toyed with it for a few seconds before picking it up, her face lighting briefly with a smile. "I wish I could ask Leonardo about it all, but that will have to wait for Mr. Paris' return, too."

"Leonardo?"

"Tom was helping me with a new holodeck program. Sort of a holonovel, but based on the life and works of Leonardo Da Vinci. He'd promised we'd finish it as soon as he got back."

"Scientist, inventor, artist... I can see the appeal for you, but you couldn't have used the program anyway, Captain, with the holodecks out of order."

"True. It will have to wait for another time," said the captain. "I just hope that I will be able to avail myself of Mr. Paris' golden touch with a holodeck program before making any appeals to Mr. Da Vinci."

* * *

The Klingon half of B'Elanna Torres was being extremely difficult to the rest of B'Elanna and to Tom. Even though the pilot had dashed out to grab the last three armloads of straw without her, B'Elanna was thoroughly chilled and miserable. The pile of straw-like stalks was almost half a meter in height, with an extra pile of the stuff propped up against the wall of the cave to serve as an improvised back rest. B'Elanna was now seated in the middle of the dried vegetation with all four of their blankets wrapped around her. Her face was lit by the flames of a small fire and the glow of several large rocks that had been rolled in front of the pile before being heated with low beams of phaser power to radiate heat and light.

The fire consumed fuel made by Tom's twisting into knots the thickest of the straw-stems, which were deemed likely to be uncomfortable as bedding. They burned brightly but far too quickly for the effort required to make them, in B'Elanna's opinion. Tom had maintained that the soothing quality of the flames made it all worthwhile, despite the tending that was required to keep the small fire going. Since it was "Tom's fire," Tom was doing all of the tending.

B'Elanna was still cold.

"More tea, B'Elanna?" he asked, solicitously.

"I think I've had enough; I'll only have to get rid of it later," she answered brusquely. By now, Tom's fussing over her had become tiresome enough for her to become irritable. She was not sure she would be able to stand it for the remaining 16 hours plus of darkness that they were anticipating.

Squatting next to the campfire, Tom added a few more hunks of straw to the flames before pouring the last of the tea from the cooking pot into his metal mug. Settling back on the pile next to his companion, Tom sipped the tea cautiously, as the brew was still hot enough to burn an unwary mouth.

"Ready to play some cards? Or do you have something else in mind to pass away the night."

"Card playing, wearing these?" she demanded, raising hands clad in Tom's heavy, cold weather gloves. Tom had taken pity on her frozen hands and let her wear them, while he wore Larson's lighter weight ones beneath his climbing gloves.

"Sure, why not. We won't have to cheat because we'll be dropping the cards all over the place." That managed to draw a hint of a smile from her.

"I think that what I really want to do is sleep away the night, if you don't mind. You will permit me to go to sleep this time, won't you?"

"In the Argala habitat we weren't equipped for sleeping. You would have died of hypothermia napping there. Here, once we make up the sleeping bags and with the heat sources we've got, we'll get by. As a last resort we can huddle up and conserve our body heat by staying close. In fact, we might be better off by making one double sleeping bag right from the start, instead of two, and use the extra blankets to block the wind as much as we can." He looked up toward the crack in the cavern's ceiling. The draft had turned into a cutting wind since nightfall.

"I don't know, Hotshot. Can I trust you, seeing as how you wanted a 'passionate affair' between the helmsman and the Maquis engineer in Insurrection Alpha?"

"Don't worry. I can control myself for one night, even if I do wrap my body around yours. For protective purposes only, of course."

"Of course," she snorted.

Taking the last sip of tea, Tom leaned over the edge of what they were calling the haystack to deposit his empty mug on the cavern floor. "Seriously, though, we probably should make up the sleeping bags now. How do we go, single, with each of us having an extra blanket, or double, with the extra blankets spread above and below us?"

She thought a moment. They _were_ going to be fully dressed, after all. "I guess doubled does make more sense."

"You'll have to crawl out from under the covers now, Lt. Torres. Brave that wind, just for a few minutes."

Giving him a dirty look, B'Elanna did as he asked. The thermal blankets from their packs had special seams along the outside edges which, when peeled open, gripped upon the other side of itself or onto matching blankets to form the envelope of a sleeping bag. Spreading one of them out to form a base, they tucked another blanket over the first. After they had finished, B'Elanna noted, "You know, if we loosen up the top blanket in a few spots, can't Larson's blanket be attached to the top, too?"

"It's worth a try." In a couple of minutes they had all three blankets attached to one other. A little cold air could enter where the top two blankets overlapped one another, since the gripper seam of the bottom blanket could not adequately grab both of the top blankets' seams well enough to prevent at least some gaps from occurring. They agreed that having slight openings, even if they might be a little drafty, were an acceptable tradeoff for having an extra layer of insulation over them while they slept.

"Climb in, Lieutenant," said the helmsman, holding the bag open for B'Elanna to slip inside the layers. He tossed Neelix's blanket on top of B'Elanna. Looking around their shelter, he grabbed a wrist light and a phaser, tucked them into his knapsack, and tossed the sack at the head of the sleeping bag. "Just in case we need it," he said.

Gingerly lowering his long legs into the bag next to B'Elanna, Tom tried to settle in and relax, but the engineer's rigidly straight position on her back did not constitute relaxation to Tom. "B'Elanna, we'd be much warmer if we spooned together."

"If we _what?"_

"You know, like spoons lying in a drawer." He gently nudged her into position on her side as he described it to her. "Your back to my front, knees bent, hips bent, my arms curled around you. There, isn't that more comfortable?"

"I don't know. You're awfully close."

He laughed. "That's the idea. I promise not to take advantage of your virtue, Lt. Torres. If I'm a bad boy, you'll make me pay for it for the rest of my life, which might not be a very long time!"

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" she said, although she had to smile. Why should she worry about him when he had been able to control his impulses better than she had on Sakari IV? Crossing her arms tightly in front of her to hold in as much of her body heat as she could, B'Elanna wiggled her hips a little to settle herself in a better position, grinning evilly as she did so. No sense letting him be _too_ comfortable.

* * *

Tom awoke with a start. At first, he thought that the frigid wind had dragged him back to consciousness. Then he was aware of the soft moaning and shivering of his bed mate. B'Elanna was suffering, and he did not know what he could do to help her beyond what he had already done. The rocks he had heated with the phasers were dark and cold. Checking his chronometer, he saw that he had heated them last about two hours before, but the draft in the cave obviously dispersed the warmth too quickly to provide the two officers with much in the way of comfort. He briefly considered burying them deeper in straw, but he doubted there was enough in the cave to make the difference needed for B'Elanna. There was one way that might help, but even that method had its flaws.

"Tom, did I wake you?" Her voice quivered, totally unlike its usual crisp delivery.

"No," he lied. "The wind woke me. How are you doing?"

"Not very good. Tom, I've been thinking." She struggled in the piles of straw, blankets and winter clothing that she wore to face him. She took a deep breath. "Sex makes body heat. Maybe we should . . . have a . . . physical encounter."

"Can't you even say 'Let's have sex, Tom?'" he teased.

"Okay. Let's have sex. I don't feel like playing word games here, Tom."

He hesitated a moment. "B'Elanna, much as I'd love to, there are some logistical problems we'd have to work out first."

"Such as . . . "

"We haven't exactly gotten to the point in our relationship where taking such a big step is expected . . . "

"Tom, I'm freezing. You're freezing. I'm not talking 'relationship' here. This is survival."

His lips curled up into a smile. "We can survive without it, Lieutenant. Cold, uncomfortable, and probably without a lot of sleep, but we can endure this. It isn't much colder than the habitat ship, but this time we've got lots of equipment. Let me warm up some tea for you."

"Don't you dare leave this bed."

"You need me? Be still, my heart."

"Tom, I'm serious."

"I'm being serious, too. It's too soon in our - if you don't want us to have a 'relationship,' then let's call it 'friendship' - to, well, too soon to get physical like that. I really do want you to respect me in the morning, Torres."

"Tom, this isn't like that _pon farr_/Klingon mating urge thing. We _both_ need to be warm. I am fond of you, you know that."

"How many times have we kissed, other than when you had that '_pon farr_ thing.' "

"I'm not sure."

"Let me refresh your memory, Lt. Torres. We haven't."

"What does that prove?"

"It proves that we aren't ready to hop into bed - uh, let me rephrase that, since we _are_ in bed already - it proves we aren't ready to make love. In case you haven't caught on yet, Lieutenant, I am not interested in a casual affair with you." He had to stop a moment, as he felt a catch in his throat that he did not want B'Elanna to hear. "Your friendship is very important to me, B'Elanna. Special. I do not want to blow this by doing something we will both regret later."

"Tom . . . " Her voice trailed off; she knew she probably was not ready for what he wanted, as he had made what he desired from her abundantly clear during the last few months. Tom was right about it not being advisable to do what she wanted him to do now. He was right, but he was wrong, too. This was a completely different situation. He had to see that!

"And, I did mean it when I said there were logistical problems, apart from the effect having sex would have on our - friendship."

"Such as?"

"To do it right, we'd have to remove a fair amount of our clothing, or, at least, you would. Do you really want to expose your body to the cold more than it already is to try to get warmed up that way? And for my part, frankly, there are certain parts of my anatomy that I would prefer _not_ to lose to frostbite."

"Point taken," she grudgingly admitted.

"Hasn't this discussion warmed you up just a little?"

"Yes, it has, a very little. I want to be a lot warmer, at least for a while."

He couldn't see her deep, lovely eyes, but he could imagine the look she was giving him. Tom almost gave in right then, cold or not, frostbite risk or not, but then he remembered something that might serve their needs, all of their needs, a little better under the present circumstances.

"We could do a little cuddling, B'Elanna."

"I thought that was what we were already doing."

"Cuddling and caressing, the way couples used to when they went 'parking.' Like in that Old-Car-on-Mars holodeck program I've got. You'll get a little of that sexual contact from me you suddenly are craving, and trust me, you will get warmer. Lots warmer."

"Sure, Tom. Let's do it."

Tom laughed at her matter-of-fact answer. Suddenly, though, he was aware of her scent, of her breath puffing in his face, of all of the places that her body was touching him, not to mention the proximity of her lips to his. At the same time he became acutely aware that talking about sex had made him, oh, so ready for it.

Breathing softly to her, "Okay, let's . . . ," he leaned the few centimeters he needed to brush her mouth with his. Since she did not pull back and seemed to be receptive, he kissed her again, still gently, but with a bit more desire, more passion. Pulling off his gloves, he tried to slip his hands between her thighs to warm them before he touched her anywhere else and was rewarded with a stiffening of her body and a distinct jump back, although how she managed it while lying on her side was a mystery to him.

"So you want to 'do it,' Torres, and I can't even warm my hands up between your legs?"

"Just give me a little warning, okay?"

"I'm giving it to you now, then. My hands are going to make contact with your body, Torres. Lots of contact. If you don't want me to do that, fine. Just say so now."

B'Elanna grunted a little but said nothing. Taking this as assent, Tom murmured her name and kissed her again. Their kisses became more and more passionate as they caressed and comforted each other in the frigid caverns.

* * *

"That definitely helped me get warmer, Paris," she said. He could sense the upturning of her lips on his and answered with a smile of his own.

"Much warmer, Torres."

Settling the blankets back around them, Tom wrapped his arms around her shoulders and back, hugging her close to him. She in turn tucked her head into his shoulder, the top of her head brushing his chin, snuggling into his embrace. He wanted to think that they would lie like that, undisturbed, for the rest of the night. By his chronometer, though, he figured that there were at least nine more hours of night left, nine more hours that would be colder than those they had already endured. Sighing into B'Elanna's hair, Tom resigned himself to the fact that several more sessions of kissing and hugging would probably be needed before morning. He was sure he'd be up for it.


	3. Biological Means

B'Elanna stirred briefly as Tom crept out of the sleeping bag. Although the air was the coldest it had been since they had entered the cavern, the dying of the breeze made it seem a little warmer. Crouching down by her side, he tenderly lifted his half of the sleeping bag to cover her, tucking the ends of Neelix's blanket over all. As he watched her restlessness settle back into slumber, Tom longed to brush his hand along her cheek. He settled for draping part of Neelix's blanket around the back of her head and neck and brushing his gloved hand against her hair. Not a very sensual experience for him, to be sure, but the gesture satisfied a need in his soul to be taking care of her. She hated it, he knew, but that did not make the impulse easier for him to resist. Feelings for the beautiful human-Klingon engineer that he had been trying to keep dormant were raging in his heart, now that they had taken one step closer to their becoming lovers. Maybe they _WERE_ lovers - he wasn't sure what they were to each other after the liberties they had allowed each other during the night. But "friends" - no, a lot more than only friends - at least, on his part.

After visiting the "latrine corner" to relieve himself, Tom used his phaser to heat several of the rocks they had arranged to serve as radiators the previous evening. Grabbing the last of the straw knots, Tom piled them in the area designated as their fireplace and lit them with Neelix's lighter. Baring his hands to take advantage of the flame, he considered their surroundings. He would be glad to get back on Voyager. This place was far too austere for him to be willing to spend any more time than necessary here. What would his father think about Tom's surviving here? Would he get more than a B- from dear old Dad if he had spent part of his survival training here? An ambivalent grin appeared on his face. Probably not.

Slipping both pairs of gloves back over his hands, Tom straightened up and strolled over to the entrance of the cavern. The sun was coming up, but it was still extremely cold. He again breathed thanks to the deity that had stopped the cutting wind.

From where he stood, Tom could see ropes of ice on the face of the cliff that he and B'Elanna had climbed the previous day. The ice ropes had been gleaming with dripping water in the sun yesterday, but now they were frozen solid. He imagined that there must be cracks in the shale at the higher elevations where spring water could drip through from deeper in the mountainside, where the water table was not frozen and water was liquid even in this cold. The sun warming the cliff caused melting in the daytime, whereas the brutal cold of the nights froze it all up again. No, Voyager's comforts would be very much appreciated by one Thomas Eugene Paris today.

Walking away from the cave entrance so that he would not disturb B'Elanna, he tapped his comm badge and said, "Paris to Voyager."

There was no answer, not even the hiss and static that had interfered with communications yesterday. Reflexively, he stared upward, although the likelihood he would be able to see Voyager in orbit was vanishingly small. Then he noticed that what he had thought was a "red sky at morning" effect was, in fact, the actual color of the entire sky, rather than just the eastern horizon. To the west, where night still reigned, the sky was a sickly orange-maroon, with a slight glow that obscured whatever stars might have been still shining in the dawn sky. In fact, Tom would be willing to bet that even the brightest stars that normally would be visible, despite the nebula, had been invisible during the night. His practiced pilot's eye caught no trace of cloud cover, either. This was the actual night sky that was stained such an unnatural color. Recalling the interference in the communicator and transport systems the previous day, Tom came to the unhappy conclusion that the nebula itself somehow had become enflamed. Plasma fires were no joke, and Voyager would be better off far away from here, if that were so.

And if that were the case, Thomas Eugene Paris and B'Elanna Torres were stranded in this unlovely environment for an indeterminate length of time.

* * *

"Torres to Voyager." B'Elanna listened for a full minute, hoping to hear some hint of an answering message. Even a crackling hiss would be welcome, as it might mean an open comm line. Dead silence was all the response she got. Sighing, she walked a little further down the bank of the stream, avoiding the ice patches that were present wherever her route was shaded from the sun in any way. There was no "path." A path implied life forms big enough to walk on a given trail with sufficient frequency for a ribbon of wear to be ground into the vegetation. B'Elanna's tricorder, now set to read biological signs instead of dilithium crystals, confirmed what Harry Kim's sensors had detected before the away teams left Voyager: there were no large animals on this planet.

Insects were another thing, however. Her tricorder was detecting large numbers of what appeared to be insect eggs, grubs, and larvae, dwelling in the deeper, unfrozen recesses of the ground, slumbering until it was time for them to retake their rightful place as the top link in the local food chain, once the appropriate season had been reached. She hoped that her tiny away team would be long gone by whatever time that was. If even half of the life forms she was reading hatched, this valley would be teeming with insects. B'Elanna would prefer not to find out just how big these insects would get once they had emerged from their hibernation.

Trudging up an embankment, B'Elanna reached the shelf which formed the base of "Dilithium Cliff," as they had dubbed the spot where the precious crystals had been found. She could hear a tenor voice say, "Paris to Voyager" as she reached the top.

"I tried less than five minutes ago, Tom."

His eyes met hers. "I figured it couldn't hurt," he offered with an apologetic shrug. "Unless you think all of our calling will use up the power in our communicators."

"Not really, although I guess I have had power on my mind a lot. We don't have any to spare if we're forced to stay here for any length of time."

"Did you find anything else we can use for a fire?"

"Just more of those woody vines you found. They should burn a little more slowly than the straw, and with a lot less effort on your part. I checked for coal and peat on my first circuit of the valley. It would be just our luck to land in the one place on this planet where there weren't any fossil fuels." She squatted next to Tom, leaning her back against the cliff, as the autumnal reddish glow from the noontime sun burnished her face. Yesterday, the color of the sun had been yellow-white, tingeing everything it touched a slight pink/purple hue to eyes adapted to the light shining from a yellow sun.

"I don't remember if Harry found anything like that when he scanned the planet. Do you?"

"Not off hand. If I had had any idea we were going to be stuck down here . . . "

"You would have paid more attention. I know, B'Elanna. I would have, too." They shared a rueful smile. That line had become quite the cliché in the past few hours. "I hadn't realized how much attention I _haven't_ been paying to Harry's background briefings. I'm going to turn over a new leaf when we get back, I assure you."

"You won't be the only one, Tom."

"So, Lt. Torres, what's next on the agenda?"

"So formal? Fine. Would you care to report on your morning's activities, Mr. Paris?"

"Happy to, Lieutenant. In addition to the tubers that I have dubbed 'yams' in deference to their close resemblance to the Terran root of the same name, I have evaluated the following foodstuffs and found them suitable for consumption by both humans, Klingons, or any combination of the two. Four more varieties of tuber, two of them fairly tasteless, the third having a flavor reminiscent of celery, and the last tasting a little like chocolatey potatoes. I swear." They both laughed at the incongruous combination. "I also found these fuzzy leaves growing in a whorly patch. They aren't very pleasant to eat because of the odd texture, but they brewed up into a slightly sweet, lemon-flavored tea. The leaves have citric acid in them for a nice, tangy taste. I was going to call it Vulcan-Ear Tea." B'Elanna raised her eyebrows in surprise but then laughed again. The pointed, brownish leaves did resemble Tuvok's ears.

"Lastly," he went on, "There are some dried seeds in these pods which, if ground, would make a coarse meal that we might be able to mix with water and bake in the fire or cooking pot for a cornbread substitute. The seeds taste a bit like maize. And unless you want me to start in on testing insect larvae and grubs, that's about it."

"Sorry, no. Maybe if we run out of everything else, we can start with the insects. I would prefer not."

"I know. I've already had enough of Neelix's grub casserole to last a lifetime." Demonstration over, Tom quickly loaded his samples back into Neelix's cooking pot and picnic basket, which he had used for his food gathering expedition. B'Elanna picked up their canteens and the two beverage containers, refilled with fresh water dripping from the icicle formations on the cliff. Together, they walked back along the muddy, rocky field to their cavern home-away-from-home.

* * *

After they had stowed away the food supplies, Tom walked over to their haystack bed and studied it for several minutes before being joined by B'Elanna. "If we are going to be spending any more nights here, and I am pretty sure that we are, we have to do something about keeping that draft away from us."

"Agreed. Couldn't we build some kind of barrier or wind baffle? Maybe some kind of screen?"

"I thought of that, but without wood, there isn't much to use for a framework."

"How about cutting some of those stalagmite columns with a fine phaser beam and using those for supports? We could attach the straw between them, woven into a screen with the piton cords."

"I don't know. Maybe." Tom pulled out his wrist light and flashed it to the area where most of the stalagmites were located. He shook his head. "I doubt it, B'Elanna. Most of them are so big, they might be impossible for just the two of us to move. And these columns look a little too short for what you want." He flashed the beam from his light over the columns of stone in the middle of the niche at the left side of the cave.

"Tom, what if we just cut those central columns out of this area. We'd have plenty of room for both of us to sleep, even on top of a haystack piled inside. This side of the cave is out of the direct line of the opening. It shouldn't be as drafty here. Of course, we couldn't stand up without banging our heads, but . . . " Looking back at the helmsman, she saw him staring intently at the row of stone columns on the perimeter of the low-ceilinged part of the cave.

"B'Elanna, I think we could form a little room out of this area if we chinked up the spaces between the row of columns with mud. Maybe add some straw and stone to the mud, and firm it all up with our phasers on the lowest setting. Like making mud brick."

Her whole demeanor brightened. "That would really keep out the wind!"

"And your idea about weaving straw with the piton cords? We could make a hanging to cover the doorway area, over here, by this space. If we enclose a space that isn't too big, the heat from our breath and bodies would raise the temperature inside, too. Like an igloo."

"A what?"

"An igloo. Centuries ago, the Arctic peoples used to live in homes cut right out of the ice. They were made in such a way that the family's bodies, with the help of a small fire or lantern of some sort, kept the igloo comfortable. I was a kid when I read about it, so I forget all the details, but I remember that it was important that the enclosed space wasn't too large. The dens of hibernating animals work in the same way. They line the dens with leaves, fur, or some kind of insulating material, and their bodies keep them warm."

"So we put the hay and our blankets and us inside . . . ."

"And keep the cold air outside . . . what do you think, Lt. Torres?"

"I think it's time we started cutting some stone columns out of this cavern, Lt. Paris."

* * *

"Enter."

Harry Kim followed Commander Chakotay into Captain Janeway's ready room.

"Take a seat, Ensign Kim." She gestured to a chair near her desk. Chakotay took the other out of long habit. "What have you to report about the supply situation for Mr. Paris and Lt. Torres?"

"I've done what I can to work out best case/worst case scenarios for their power and supply situation, Captain. The best we can tell according to our records, B'Elanna had between five and eight phaser power packs with her for their dilithium cutting expedition. We aren't sure if Tom took any extras or not, Captain; and although we assume that all of them were at full capacity because of the nature of the job they were doing, we don't know for sure. They have the usual basic knapsack contents with convertible blankets, some personal articles, wristlights, and Tom's Field Medic Kit. Tom also took some climbing equipment - at least four pitons and lines. Neelix remembers seeing that many lines on the cliff."

"I'm not surprised Neelix noticed that," commented the commander with an encouraging smile. Chakotay noted the ensign's unusually reserved manner, not that it was particularly surprising. Harry's best friends on Voyager were the two officers marooned on Tantrum IV.

"No, it isn't much of a surprise." Ensign Kim continued, without any noticeable lightening of mood. "Also, they had some food. Ration bars and whatever they had left over from the lunch Neelix sent up. That's all we're sure of, Captain. Neelix thinks that when Larson and he were beamed up, Larson's pack, a picnic basket with some odds and ends and an extra blanket, some tools, and the last of the tuber supply was left behind. Or maybe they were lost in transport."

"So we can't be positive of anything but the merest minimum of supplies."

"No, Captain. Since there is food in the valley, though, the critical thing is having a sufficient heat source. We don't know for certain about the power consumption from the dilithium cutting. We can only project that either they are already out of power, or they may have enough for several weeks, particularly if they use strict conservation measures."

"How cold does it get, Mr. Kim?"

"While we were monitoring the planet, the low at night reached minus 30° Centigrade at that latitude, so they may be . . . " Harry swallowed painfully, "Well, Captain, they may already be dead if they don't have sufficient shelter in the cave or haven't used some other method of keeping warm."

The captain and the first officer gazed at each other. "Other methods, Mr. Kim?"

"Well, they can build a fire, I guess, if they can find anything to burn. There was no sign of any wood there. And there are, uh, some other, um - biological ways to um, keep warm." The ensign's face flushed.

"Biological ways. That would make sense." Commander Chakotay knew exactly what Ensign Kim was trying to avoid saying. A glance at Captain Janeway's twitching lower lip told him that she was perfectly aware of those ways also, as he fully expected that she would be.

After an awkward pause, Captain Janeway said, "Thank you, Ensign Kim. Dismissed." As he got up to leave, the captain's eyes fixed upon her second-in-command in a voiceless message. A barely perceptible nod from him followed, and Commander Chakotay trailed the ensign as he left the room.

Just outside the ready room door, the commander halted Kim. Wanting to cheer up the young operations officer, he clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll get them back. They're both survivors."

"I know, sir." Harry sighed. "I guess I'm being selfish. Here I am, feeling lonely and put out that they're both gone, when they are the ones facing the tough conditions."

"They're both very creative people. I'm sure that they will have found a way to get a fire going, or they'll be using those, uh, 'biological methods.'"

Noting Harry's swift intake of breath and a slight quirking of his lips, Chakotay surmised that the obvious warming of the friendship of Paris and Torres may have gone even further than he had realized. Leaning closer to the young man, the commander whispered, "Harry, what's the betting line."

"Betting line, Commander?" he replied uncertainly.

"Mr. Kim. There is a betting line for virtually everything that happens on this ship. Even without Mr. Paris to run this one, I find it hard to believe that there is no betting line about whether or not Paris and Torres are using 'biological methods' to keep warm."

"There isn't one, Commander." Harry assured his superior, but then he hesitated. While his answer was strictly true, he was omitting an important additional fact.

"That's pretty hard to accept."

"Well, there's a reason there isn't any - Commander, you aren't going to let Tom and B'Elanna know about this when they get back, are you?" The commander was satisfied when he heard Harry using the positive term "when" rather than "if." Mission accomplished.

"Of course not, Mr. Kim," Chakotay responded.

Harry sighed, and this time, he was definitely smiling. "Commander, there isn't any betting line because no one is willing to back the bet that they _WON'T_ be using 'biological methods' to survive."

* * *

As B'Elanna bored the final hole for attaching their "door," Tom passed his phaser over the last section of the mud and stone wall they had built to seal out the cold air. He had already completed treating the inside surface of the walls and had spread a thick layer of straw over the floor of the niche. A large chunk of stone had been left resting on a shelf formed by an irregularity in the cave wall within the enclosure, ready to be heated by a phaser blast to act as a heat source.

"Finished here, B'Elanna," Tom snapped the phaser off as he spoke.

"I am, too. Hand over the door." Tom picked up the hanging woven of piton rope and thick tufts of straw, which was of sufficient size to overlap the opening and block the cold air from easily entering their "den." Handing one rope end to B'Elanna, he held on to the other and threaded the rope hinge through one of the holes she had made in the stone. When they were done, they stepped back to survey their handiwork.

"Looks good, B'Elanna, but the middle of the night will tell the tale."

"At least if there aren't any big cracks and we're out of the wind, we should do all right." Lifting up the straw door, B'Elanna crawled inside. Tom handed her their blankets and a light before crawling in after her. Together, they spread out their sleeping bag and blankets. "I feel warmer already, Tom."

"Good, because after last night, I'm not interested in feeling any more cool breezes while I try to sleep." He returned the twinkling smile he saw in her eyes. She was in good humor, and at that moment he thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. Catching his breath, he added, "Let's get some dinner before crawling back inside our 'den' for the rest of the night."

Dinner was, surprise of surprises, "yams" with half a ration bar and a couple of mugs of "Vulcan Ear Tea." At the beginning of the meal, they chatted comfortably about nothing in particular, but once they finished eating, B'Elanna fell noticeably silent. After several of his more humorous attempts received not the slightest indication she had heard him, Tom remained quiet himself.

B'Elanna was taking the last sips of her tea when she said hesitantly, "Tom, about last night. I, um, I just want to say thank you for your . . . I'm not sure what to call it. Efforts? To keep me warm, I mean."

"Don't mention it, B'Elanna. It wasn't exactly a hardship for me." His smile was warm and kind.

"About tonight. When we are in bed. I . . . .I think maybe we can take things a little further. If we need to keep warm, I mean."

"I think you'll find we won't have to use such extraordinary measures tonight. You'll be much warmer, you'll see. Especially with the extra straw. I'll pile some on top of you to help keep you warmer . . . ."

"Tom. What if I said that I would like you to keep me warm. The way we didn't get to last night." Her eyes were still fastened on the bottom of her empty mug.

While he understood her words, believing what he had heard her say was a bit more difficult. "If we got through last night, we'll be fine tonight." He watched her bite her lower lip before she raised her face to him. Her face was lit by the flickering light of the campfire, which burned more steadily on this night because of the dry vines that supplemented the knots of straw; he could see the sparkling flames reflecting from her eyes. Warm brown eyes, connecting with his in a way that he had seen only once before, when she hadn't been herself. Tonight, however, he knew of no event, no intoxicating substance or condition, that could account for that connection except for one thing.

"I thought you wanted to see my Klingon side, Tom. When I really meant it. I meant what I said then - about being attracted to you."

"Last night . . . ."

"Last night was last night, Tom. I meant it then, too, when I said we should, uh, we should have sex, but you were right. It wouldn't have been very comfortable for either of us last night. But I guess . . . .what we did do made me want to see what it would be like to really make love with you tonight. For real."

It was his turn to be silent. How many nights had he lain in bed during the last few months, dreaming of her saying what she was saying to him right now? If he were honest, the answer would be every night. Tom had even imagined it happening in a cave, the two of them having spent an inordinate amount of time in one cavern or another, but not under conditions like this. Tom could not be sure if her primary reason was only to keep warm, rather than for any emotional attachment that she might feel for him. As he sat there, his mind churning over this unexpected proposition, he could think of dozens of reasons why he should put her off, and only one that said he should embrace the opportunity that presented itself; but that one reason was stronger than all of the others. He wanted her, too.

The noble Paris asserted himself. "B'Elanna, this is just as bizarre a situation as any other we've been in. And there have been some really bizarre ones, you have to admit. I do want you, B'Elanna, but not just as a one night stand, like I said last night, and not as a way of surviving a harsh climate, and to just forget about afterwards like it never really happened. Maybe we need to talk this out some more to . . . ."

"Tom, we've talked enough. Over and over again - we've been dancing around this for months. If you really mean all those pretty things you've been saying to me, you'll say, 'yes, thank you, B'Elanna. Let's let it happen.' We are inevitable, Tom. I just want to get over this wondering _WHEN_ it's going to happen and just have it finally begin."

He was a bit stunned at the intensity he heard in her voice. Putting down his mug, he walked over to where she was sitting to kneel down before her, the cold, hard stone biting into his knees. In his heart, he knew he had to be on his knees for what he needed to say to her. "B'Elanna. I want to 'let it happen,' too. But I still think it is too soon in our 'relationship' - yes, I am going to use that word if you're going to be talking about making love with me!" He broke eye contact with her momentarily as he tried to keep his voice steady. "If you want me that badly, B'Elanna Torres, then I don't mind telling you that I want you just as badly. But there is going to be a condition - if it's going to happen tonight. I can be just as happy touching you and having you touch me the way we did last night, and I'm pretty sure we'll be able to go along as we have, as friends, if we stop there. That was intimate, but it won't compare to what I'll be doing with you tonight if we go through with what you are asking. So will you promise me, B'Elanna?"

"Tell me the condition first, Hotshot, and then I'll see if I can promise you."

"That when we get back to Voyager, you don't try to pretend that nothing happened here - that you just expect us to go back to the way we were before. B'Elanna, I want to explore what we can be to one another, to see if we are meant to be together, more than friends. To see if we actually _do_ have a 'relationship.' That's my condition, B'Elanna. Will you do that?"

Turning her face away from his, she shook her head as if trying to clear cobwebs from it. "I don't know . . . ." Then she met his gaze again and half-smiled. "Why is it that you've never been hard to get for anyone on Voyager, except for me, Paris?" Even as she said this, she knew she was being unfair, but B'Elanna wanted to hear his answer.

He replied flippantly, "What, easy to get, me? B'Elanna, whatever could have made you think that?" B'Elanna had been doing her research and knew that in actuality, he was telling the truth. Despite appearances, Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris was nowhere near the rake that he led everyone to think he was, by the way he talked and flirted. At this moment, however, she was reticent about letting him know what she knew.

Instead, she rolled her eyes at him as he took her hands in his. Softly, he went on, "Answer me, Torres. After all, I'm not demanding a lifetime commitment from you this minute. Just an end to this 'I-Pursue-You-and-You-Push-Me-Away' game we've been playing, long enough to see where we're headed. Stop running long enough to look around, Torres, maybe you'll enjoy the view!"

"Paris, you know you talk too much, don't you?"

"How could I avoid knowing it; you've been telling me often enough!"

B'Elanna thought about his request. He really wasn't asking all that much of her. A chance to satisfy their curiosity about each other, to see it they could avoid killing each other, no firm commitments? "All right, Tom. I can promise that much, at least."

Tom squeezed her hands, and she sensed a different quality about his eyes. The color was transformed into a deeper, even more beautiful shade of transparent blue than usual. For a moment, B'Elanna was conscious of a momentary dropping of the hard shell mask that Tom habitually wore to confound the outside world, and she was allowed the briefest of glimpses into the landscape of an incredibly vulnerable soul. And then he smiled at her.

"In that case, B'Elanna Torres, let's get ready for bed."

* * *

It was strange. Now that they were going to take this big step, both became incredibly awkward with one another. The stray thought that perhaps they should not go through with it crossed both of their minds, but neither mentioned it to the other. B'Elanna slipped inside their sanctuary first, while Tom fussed over the extinguishing of the fire and gathered into his knapsack canteens, cups, phasers, and wrist lights, all of which would be needed at some time during the night if the activities he had in mind were to be achieved comfortably. Becoming parched from their exertions was likely during an 18 hours-long-night.

Crawling inside to their bed with gear in hand and wristlight switched on, Tom was surprised to see B'Elanna lying under the covers, fully dressed, even to her heavy jacket. "Expecting snow in here, Lieutenant?"

"Very funny, Paris. I got cold while we were yapping outside."

"Sure you still want to go through . . . ."

"I thought that had been established pretty definitively, Tom."

She was obviously nervous. So was he. It wasn't every day that a fantasy came true. Taking the phaser, he set it on very low power and shot it at the rock they had designated to be their radiator. "Be careful you don't get too close," he told her.

She gave him a look that clearly meant she thought that that had been an incredibly stupid, obvious thing to say. He did not care; it needed to be said. Tom felt increasing heat on his face but did not know if it was from his own flushed face or from the heated rock.

Removing the wrist light and perching it in a crack in the wall, Tom pointed the lens up toward the ceiling for background lighting, away from their eyes.

"Aren't you going to shut it off? It'll waste power."

Tom exhaled an extremely visible puff of air, grinned at her, then allowed his grin to fade slightly into a smile before saying quietly, "No, I'm leaving it on. The first time, I want to see your face." She made no verbal reply but suddenly grasped him by the neck and pulled his face down to her mouth, clearly intending to bite him.

He stopped her, saying casually but meaningfully, "B'Elanna, can we start slow, take it nice and easy, 'human-style' at first, if you want to call it that, and then work up to your Klingon side? At least, this first time."

She rolled her eyes but, suddenly feeling shy, nodded affirmatively.

Tom stroked the side of her face, cupped her jaw in his hands and leaned over to softly kiss her on the mouth. Her response was to nip him lightly on the cheek, making his pulse quicken. She was conscious of the slightly sweet smell of the haystack, the feel of his body next to hers, and his brilliant blue eyes upon her. After caressing her for a while, Tom leaned down on one elbow and breathed out, "Is your Klingon side ready to come out now, B'Elanna?" as he leaned his face down near her mouth.

It was, so she bit him.

* * *

Afterwards, Tom held B'Elanna close as she lay drowsily in his arms. Tom knew, from the boasting he had heard in more crummy bars in the Alpha Quadrant than he cared to count, that most men aspired to having a Klingon woman as a lover at least once in life. He managed, just barely, to contain his rage at whatever lover or lovers had taken B'Elanna before him. From the way she had responded to Tom, he could tell that they had taken her without any regard to her pleasure, which, if it came at all, was just accidental and secondary to the man's.

He could not help but feel sorry for B'Elanna for missing out for so much of her life on fully experiencing what was, to him, the most beautiful of acts, because of the selfishness of her partners. No wonder she had buried herself in Engineering, living like a Tabern monk. She hadn't known any better!

Observing B'Elanna's eyes flutter to a close as she slipped into an exhausted slumber, Tom untangled the bedding from where it was twisted beneath them. Nudging B'Elanna onto her side, he spread the covers over them both. As her breathing settled into the steady rhythm of sleep, Tom touched the back of her neck with the lightest of kisses. Reaching up, he switched off the light before relaxing his own body to fit the along the contours of hers. Tom nestled close, allowing his own mind to wander as he enjoyed the feeling of just being with someone that he cared about as much as, in fact, possibly more than, he cared for himself.

Without fully realizing it until much later, as Tom lay with B'Elanna in his arms after that first time, he had already made a lifetime commitment to her: a commitment to make her happy.

* * *

He was sitting alone again in a corner of the mess hall when Kes came in for her dinner. Head bent over a padd that he was studying intently, Harry Kim still had what appeared to be a full serving of whatever Neelix was serving that night for dinner. After three years on Voyager, Kes was well aware that Harry may have simply disliked what Neelix had prepared, and normally she would have assumed that was true. Tonight, however, her empathic senses told her otherwise.

Loneliness and worry emanated from Harry the way the scent of Kes' deepest red roses wafted through the hydroponics bay when they were in full bloom. She was not sure whether or not the human crew members, who were not particularly telepathic or psychic, were aware of it; but no one was sitting near him. Of course, he may simply have warned them away if they approached him.

Kes picked up a tray and decided upon a dinner selection. Murmuring her usual courtesies to Neelix, her ex-lover but current good friend, Kes walked down the room to find a seat of her own.

"Is this place taken?" she asked Harry.

"No, Kes. Please, sit down. I'll be going in a few minutes anyway to get back down to Engineering."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping we'd have a chance for a long talk. You've been working so hard lately on all the repairs. It's been ages since we had a chance for a nice long chat."

"A very long time. Almost a week, as I recall, after I finally repaid you the last of the month's worth of replicator rations I borrowed from you a while ago."

She almost giggled. "Well, a week _IS_ a long time to an Ocampa."

Harry tried to work out what one week in the nine year life span of an Ocampa equaled in the terms of a normal human life span, but he quickly gave up, saying instead, "It isn't the same thing, I don't think. What I'd love to know is how you managed to save so many replicator credits. I always seem to be caught short."

"It helps that I don't mind Neelix's Delta Quadrant cooking as much as the rest of you do. I don't use nearly as many credits for food."

"That explains it," he smiled.

"Besides, Harry, that time it wasn't only the two of us. Tom and B'Elanna were with us that night at Sandrine's. You have to admit, when they are around, the conversations all seem to revolve around them.

"They do go at it, don't they." Harry's expression turned wistful. "I wouldn't mind hearing their bickering right now, would you?"

Kes agreed. Seeing the change in Harry's countenance, Kes lightly rested her left hand over Harry's right hand. He turned his hand over and clasped hers in return. "They're all right, Harry. I just know it."

"I'll bet they're arguing about everything down there on that planet."

"Could be." Kes' smile became mysterious.

Noticing, Harry asked, "What, are you sensing anything?"

"Not through any 'psychic' powers, Harry. You know the way they've been looking at each other the past several weeks."

"More like months, in Tom's case, anyway."

"The way Tom feels, Harry, do you think he is going to pick at every little thing with B'Elanna when their lives are at stake? They'll be depending upon one another to survive. They won't put themselves in jeopardy by arguing over everything. They'll be working together. What else do you think they'd be doing?"

"What everyone on board expects them to be doing, for one thing. That's why a betting pool couldn't be set up."

Kes laughed again. "I'm afraid that's so. I'm more concerned about what will happen when they come back here. There's been so much gossip floating around, even before they went on this away mission, and B'Elanna can be a little - quick to take offense sometimes."

"A _little_ quick?"

"Maybe quicker than most people," she admitted.

" 'Most people' is an understatement."

As they shared another laugh, Kes became conscious of the fact that Harry now had her left hand firmly grasped in his right hand. Harry must have become aware of it as well, as his grin became awkward. He unclasped his hand from hers as if to move it away, but Kes stopped him. Their eyes met as she rubbed the top of his hand lightly before letting it go, but Harry had finally taken the hint and left his hand on the table for her so that she could eat her dinner and still grab hold of him again if she really wanted. As she picked up her eating utensil to finish the last few bites of her food, Kes lightly traced a fingertip across the palm of his hand. A subtle change in his breathing was his only response, yet a thrill went through her.

"How are the repairs going, Harry?" Kes asked the young operations officer.

"It's going fairly slowly at the moment. Checking and replacing the damaged circuitry is a tedious job without help from the main computer, but until the circuitry is fixed, we can't rely on the computer. Every bit must be tested by hand to make sure there are no hidden weak spots or flaws, and just putting it all in . . . " As Harry spoke, his eyes became more animated, and he even picked up his own fork and started to eat cold food from his own plate.

Kes remembered their first meeting in the tunnels of the Ocampan homeworld, where she was born. She had enjoyed his company from the beginning, but not much of a friendship could occur between Kes, Harry, and especially, Tom, because of Neelix's jealousy of any man near "his Kes." Once she had decided not to see Neelix anymore in a romantic relationship, the way was clear for Kes to begin developing relationships with other members of the crew; but until now, her few real dates had been with people from off the ship, during shore leaves. Her socializing on board had been in groups, mainly in get-togethers with B'Elanna, Tom, and Harry.

With the pang that she always felt when the memory of her crossed her mind, Kes thought of her "daughter," Linnis, who had married Harry and borne him a son in a lifetime that she would not ever experience now. Kes could see what Linnis had seen in him. Harry's youthful exuberance was matched by intelligence and a pleasant, easy-going personality.

Although Harry was anything but vain, Kes had always thought he was extremely good looking, with obsidian eyes, handsome features, broad shoulders, and a head of hair that Kes' fingers fairly ached to touch. Kes tried to distract herself from thoughts of running her hands through that thick thatch of his by concentrating on Harry's discussion of the repairs. Instead, she found her thoughts wandering back to Linnis and to Linnis' son Andrew. Harry's son, too, and with no Linnis, there could never be an Andrew. Or could there be? What if Andrew were not Kes' grandson at all, but her son?

Kes found herself blushing a little as these unexpected thoughts passed through her mind. She had only thought of Harry as a friend in the past. But, wasn't this what had happened with Tom and B'Elanna? They had worked together for over two years before Tom had begun to reveal romantic intentions to the chief engineer. Kes suspected Tom had been drawn to B'Elanna for much longer, but had not felt confident enough to approach her any sooner.

Kes did not know if Tom and B'Elanna were fully aware of their true feelings yet, or at least, they had not been before being stranded on Tantrum IV. But now? And if Tom and B'Elanna were to become closer, what about Harry? With the threesome becoming a twosome plus one, how would Harry cope? Who could comfort him, keep him from feeling left out?

Kes knew that Harry had been devoted to his fiancée Libby thus far, but as the trip took longer and longer, hopes of seeing Libby again had to be fading. Kes did not want kind, considerate Harry to be lonely. Looking straightforwardly into her own heart, Kes realized with a start that _she_ wanted to be the one to keep him from being lonely. When did that happen? Kes did not know, but she realized that her happiness when in Harry's company was not a new thing, but had been building for quite some time. Why hadn't she recognized that she _HAD_ been dating Harry? She belatedly realized that the only reason she had not realized it was because they had all been double dates, with Tom and B'Elanna.

"I'm sorry, Kes. I know I'm boring you. It doesn't take much for me to start babbling about the ship's systems.

"You're not boring me, Harry. I just have another problem in my mind which keeps distracting me."

"Can I help?"

Kes thought quickly. She could not bring herself to admit to him that the thoughts that had been distracting her had all been inspired by Harry. At least, not yet. Finally, she was able to say, "As a matter of fact, you may be able to help. If you have time, do you think you could do the Doctor's weekly diagnostic that B'Elanna has been running ever since he had memory problems? The Doctor has been getting concerned that his program might become corrupted in some way, especially since he has been in the holoemitter this week for longer than he ever has before."

"I can't believe that I forgot about the Doctor! We should have checked him out before this. I heard the Doctor's voice when he contacted Captain Janeway on the bridge this morning, but it never occurred to me that with the computer problems, the EMH could be in jeopardy. It was a lucky thing he was in the holoemitter when the ship's problems began."

"I'm not sure how much luck had to do with it," smiled Kes. "After the Doctor barely escaped with Commander Chakotay when the Nyrians took over Voyager, B'Elanna and I decided to rig up an automatic alert system. When certain things happen - an imminent computer or shield failure, for instance - I get a signal that reminds me to switch the Doctor into his emitter for safety's sake, until the danger is past. The alert went off the other day when the shields started going down, so I put the Doctor in his emitter. The system seems to have worked fine, and his program has been running off the holoemitter ever since."

"B'Elanna never told me about that alert system, but it's a good idea. We certainly don't want to lose the doctor."

"When can you come to sickbay to run the diagnostic, Harry?"

"Right now, if you're finished with dinner. I really don't have any particular repair assignment this evening, and working on the Doctor's program should be a priority. We need to stop down in Engineering to pick up the portable diagnostic equipment first, though."

"Well, I am done, Harry, so let's go."

* * *

The dream was about being poked with an icicle. After B'Elanna came back to wakefulness, several seconds passed before she remembered where she was and why it was so dark. A little groping to investigate the poking sensation that she still felt revealed that B'Elanna had managed somehow to open the side of the sleeping bag, half-slipping out in the process. A thick stalk of the "hay" was poking her beneath her breast, and the air, which was decidedly chilly wherever it flowed over the exposed part of her body, apparently had prompted the icicle part of her dream. It was not as cold as the previous night, to be sure; their "den" was serving its purpose of blunting the effects of the frigid draft, protecting them from the plunge in temperature that characterized the nights of their grim little world. As a vacation spot, this planet would have very little to offer, except for solitude.

One part of her body was very warm. Her buttocks were snuggled close to the heat-exuding physique of Tom Paris. While struggling a bit in the dark to reseal at least part of the side of the sleeping bag, B'Elanna thought about what had taken place between them. Incredible. The closest experience that she had ever had to it was when Jora Mirell/Karenna/whatever-her-name-really-was shared with B'Elanna her bittersweet memories of trysts with her long-dead lover Dathan. Those were the most sensual dreams she had ever had, and the passions they had aroused in her while dreaming them had been, up to now, the highlight of B'Elanna's sexual experience. She reluctantly conceded that to herself now. B'Elanna had declined to examine her addiction to those dreams too closely at the time, not wanting to acknowledge her own feeble responses during her previous sexual encounters.

Now, however, she could assess her short list of previous lovers and admit the truth: they had all been lousy lovers, compared to Tom Paris. Her first real taste of what the Klingon mating urge was all about had come courtesy of a man who seemed like the epitome of the self-involved, cocky barfly he had once programmed on the holodeck. It was shocking to think how well Tom could disguise his true, compassionate self behind all those swaggering poses he liked to assume.

The last piece of the puzzle of her "research project" on the loves of Tom Paris fell resoundingly into place. She smiled. Don't believe everything you hear, indeed; but when the silence is as deafening as Megan Delaney's was when asked about her former, surprisingly long-term relationship with Tom, you can be sure something is being left unsaid. Now that she thought about it, she realized that Megan wasn't the kiss and tell type, despite some of the ship's gossip. Still, Megan's new boyfriend Gerron Tem must _REALLY_ be a good lover if she had given Tom up for him!

The little shiftings in body position that were necessary for B'Elanna to fix the sleeping bag had their effect on Mr. Paris. She heard his breathing change before feeling his body stretch against hers. Taking advantage of the fact that she had already disturbed him, B'Elanna pulled the sleeping bag and blankets around and turned over to face him. Awake, or by reflex, Tom's arms opened for her, allowing her to wrap her own arms around him once she carefully arranged the blankets to cover both of them.

B'Elanna rested her head on firm pectoral muscles. The chest hair that had been so intriguing to play with during their lovemaking now provided a sensuous pillow beneath her cheek. The steady thumping of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath added to her feelings of contentment. B'Elanna thought with amusement that if she had to be stranded here with somebody, she was glad it was this body.

That hair. She resisted playing with it at first, but, eventually, it became a magnet for her exploring fingertips. As she traced the pattern of hair on his body from his chest down along the midline, B'Elanna remembered with longing exactly what that body could do.

A low-pitched, purring voice was heard: "Wanna play?"

He was definitely awake now, and yes, B'Elanna was in the mood to play.

* * *

Afterwards, B'Elanna resumed the position she had been in at the time of his invitation to come play with him. Pleasantly warm, but not ready to sleep, B'Elanna decided that she wanted to know his reply to a question that had occurred to her just before she again had experienced the interpersonal relationship skills of one Thomas Eugene Paris.

"Tom, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How did you learn how to do what you just did with me?"

"Practice, practice, and more practice."

"Stop that! Don't play the pig with me, Paris! I know better."

His chuckle rocked her head where it rested over his heart. "I'm not kidding. As to whom the teachers were, well, I need to protect my sources. All I'm at liberty to say is that I am an apt and willing pupil whenever I can see the value in what it is that I am studying. And bringing pleasure to the one who is sending me to the heights of passion only seems fair." His voice changed its tone, and although his expression could not be seen, she knew it had turned serious. "The lovers you were with before, they don't seem to have followed the same credo."

"That's an understatement. They couldn't wait to finish with me; I can see that now. I just thought it was me."

"B'Elanna, you should have known that that wasn't true, especially after knowing how you responded to Vorik's . . . I don't know what it to call it, exactly, but the words 'attempted rape' come to mind."

"Don't remind me of Vorik! I feel like dislocating his jaw again! Especially when I think that if he hadn't interrupted us in the woods I could have felt this way before!"

Gathering her up into a great hug, he gave out a full-throated laugh, and B'Elanna flushed with happiness at being alive at that very moment. She hadn't really gotten the answer to her question, however. "Tom, back to my original question. Why did you let everyone think you were such a pig when you first came on Voyager? I know you aren't really the way that you've been pretending to be."

"What makes you think I've been pretending?"

"I confess, Tom, I did some checking around since, well, since that _pon farr_ thing, when you acted the opposite of the way I thought you would. Almost every one of the women that I talked to says the same thing - you had some laughs together, maybe some kissing, but you kept it light, no deep involvement. The only ones who aren't talking are Sue Nicoletti and Megan Delaney. I think Sue is too proud to admit that she hasn't anything much to tell, but you dated Megan for over a year. She refused to say anything to me about your love life; but other than that, she only had nice things to say about you. The way everyone else talks about you, you'd think that you were sleeping your way through the ranks until you get to Janeway. I know you aren't. Why are you making everyone think you're a pig?"

He remained silent for a while before saying, "The truth is, I _WAS_ a pig when I came on Voyager. I thought I had a reputation to uphold - for hotshot pilots everywhere. I just didn't get a chance to act on it before it got through my thick skull that it wasn't the right way to act if I was really going to redeem myself in the captain's eyes, or in everyone else's, either. I have you to thank for that, actually. Do you remember when you called me a pig when I programmed Gaunt Gary and the gigolo in Sandrine's?"

"Vividly."

"That shocked me. I couldn't believe that you would be offended by Gary's attentions. It made me take a long, hard look at what I had been doing to myself since I was cashiered from Starfleet after the Caldik Prime accident . . . ." His voice trailed off as he immersed himself in the memories of a time he would like to forget but couldn't, pondering how much he wanted to reveal to her. Just as she thought she might have to ask him to go on, of his own volition he did, in a husky, emotion-tinged voice. "I can't tell you how hard that was - well, maybe I don't have to - your life hasn't been that easy. But anyway, my father didn't exactly disown me, but he was so upset by the way I had screwed up his dreams for my future that I couldn't bear to look at him when I was with him. I bummed around, getting jobs where I could, hardly enough to pay my bar bills, half the time. And I'll admit it. If a woman was willing to let me into her bed, I took her up on it. No questions asked, but no promises made, either. I don't even want to think about some of the things I did then. I wasn't much better than that gigolo more times than I want to think about."

B'Elanna felt his hands start to stroke her back, but this time, she was sure he was not trying to start anything sexual but instead was deriving comfort, perhaps absolution, for what he was confessing. She had a hunch that he had not even spilled all of this out to Harry. "I spent most of those years, even after I landed with the Maquis, as drunk as I could afford to be. When you've passed out under the table, you don't have to think about how you've wasted your life. And the rest of the time I used sex as an anesthetic. It was the only time I felt good." Tom shifted his body a little and began to stroke B'Elanna's hair. "But you know, B'Elanna, even then, I never lost sight of the fact that the woman I was with was giving me a gift. Her body. I could use it for my own needs, or I could share a wonderful experience with her. I chose to share, B'Elanna, not only because it was fair, but because it was the only way I could pay her back for making me feel like - like somebody again. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I do, Tom." B'Elanna was a little sorry, now, that she had made him talk about it. The thrilling sexual experiences that he had shared with her were payback: for allowing him to have sex with her in the first place, for keeping him warm, maybe even for being his friend. She would have liked for it to have been as special for him as it had been for her, but then she berated herself for being foolish. Instead of dreaming of a deeper relationship with Mr. Paris, as he seemed for a while to have had with Megan Delaney, B'Elanna would have to be content with what he had to offer - his left hand, stroking her head; his right hand, now traveling down to her hip in rhythmic motions; his body, pressing close to hers in the darkness - she could enjoy these sensations. Just don't look for anything more.

His soft voice broke into her reverie. "You still awake?"

"Yes. I was just thinking about what you said. Did you ever talk to Harry about this?"

"God, no, I wouldn't want to burden him with this. The only reason I told you is because you insisted. And I guess I do want you to understand about my past, now that we've been this intimate with one another." She felt his lips touch each of her forehead ridges in succession with a light kiss, quite a trick when it was as dark as it was, before feeling him shake with laughter. "Harry, Harry, Harry, he was so innocent when we first met! Do you know Harry was actually gullible enough to believe me when I told him I'd left five girlfriends behind me in the Alpha Quadrant? That was back when he was too afraid to date anyone, because he'd left Libby behind. As if I'd had access to any girlfriends while I was in prison!"

"Maybe he thought it was the kind of prison where you could have 'female visitors' for that sort of thing."

"Conjugal visits _were_ allowed, but only if you were married. I guess I won't have to worry about that any more. If I do get thrown back into Auckland when we get home to the Alpha Quadrant, at least you'll be making some conjugal visits to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I thought that now that we've done 'the deed,' we're mates for life."

She snorted in disbelief. "Don't be silly, Paris."

"It is Klingon tradition, after all."

"Uh-huh, and I know what a student of Klingon tradition you've become lately."

"I have, and a wonderful tradition it is, too, most of the time, although I'm not that crazy about the concept of killing your superior at the first sign of weakness as a means of getting promoted."

"I'm not crazy about that one, either."

"So, you sure you don't want to take the marriage oath, B'Elanna? I'm willing and ready."

"Right. Just go to sleep, Paris."

Giving him a hug as she listened again to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear, B'Elanna snuggled her body as close to his as she could. She felt his arms closed around her in a tender embrace, felt him plant another kiss on the top of her head. It certainly was nice to feel so warm and cozy in his arms.

Tom was satisfied too, but not as greatly as the one who was lying in his arms. Since she had had no idea how serious he had been, B'Elanna never detected the sense of dejection Tom was feeling because she had rejected his marriage proposal.


	4. Knowing Each Other Better

"Everything looks fine, Doctor. The power pack doesn't show any noticeable drain. I'd say that you could run a couple of weeks in the holoemitter, in a pinch, before running into any problems."

"That certainly is good news. Lt. Torres had discussed running some further tests about the power question, but I guess we will have to wait for her return, won't we. How soon will that be, Ensign?"

"A few more days at least, Doctor. We still aren't up to full strength on the shields or on the propulsion system. We've had to prioritize our repair schedule according to which systems needed to be completed first."

"Well, I guess that means that the Holodecks are the last priority, then. Who needs entertainment when everyone is so busy fixing things?" The Doctor's smile appeared to be somewhat forced.

"Actually, Doc, the holodecks have already been fixed. They're a separate system anyway, and we needed their replicators for manufacturing extra parts. Why are you interested in the Holodecks?"

The Doctor looked over at Kes, who smiled encouragingly. When the EMH did not immediately respond to Harry's question, Kes did. "The Doctor has been trying to decide about whether or not to continue his family program."

Harry was surprised. "Doctor, wasn't that program pretty painful for you? Tom said he didn't think you'd want to continue it, since you had so much trouble finishing up with it last time, when your daughter, uh . . . " The ensign's voice faded away. Just how personal could he be with a hologram? Would he have his feelings hurt?

The EMH took on a decidedly pained expression. "Mr. Paris' advice to go back and face Belle's death was extremely difficult to take, but I must admit, it was good advice. I had my chance to say goodbye to her. She was a . . . remarkable child, but I also have the rest of my family, Ensign. I created them for a purpose, and that purpose still exists. I have learned much about humanoid emotions and behavior from it already, and, while I certainly hope I will not have to go through a great many tragedies in order to improve my programming, I believe it is time to face my future without hesitation."

"Doctor, the last time you went back was when Belle died. How are you going to handle the lapse of time? If you go back immediately after her death, you are going to have to deal with your wife's grief. If you leave a gap of time, you will owe your wife and son an explanation," Kes said worriedly.

"Thank you for your concern, Kes, but I went back on one other occasion, for Belle's memorial services. Mr. Paris accompanied me, since he had programmed the services. We discussed then whether or not I would continue the program, and I wasn't sure. Mr. Paris modified the program to indicate that I had to go off-planet for a special conference to account for an absence of several weeks so that, if I ever did decide to return, the explanation for my being gone would already be in place. Mr. Paris can be very helpful when he wants to be."

Kes and Harry smiled at each other. "Yes, we know, Doctor," commented Kes.

"If you want to see your family, I'll check with Engineering and see if they're still using the Holodecks for repairs. As soon as it's clear, I'll let you know so you can reserve some time."

"Thank you, Ensign. I appreciate that. Now, I have some tests to run, so if you are quite finished here . . . "

"Of course, Doc. We can take a hint." With Kes' help, Harry packed up the last of his equipment.

* * *

Sniffing the air, Tom teased B'Elanna, "Catching the lover's scent is definitely not a problem right about now, is it?

Tossing over another chunk of vine for her grinning companion to add to their mid-morning meal fire, B'Elanna answered, "Speak for yourself, Paris. I smell just fine."

"I'm not going to argue with a Klingon."

She grinned back at him. "The air is just getting a little zesty from your - how shall I say it - manly scent?"

"Seriously, B'Elanna, I need a bath desperately. These wipes with a washcloth are simply not good enough. At midday the air is warm enough for a good scrub, especially if we do it in front of the cliff in the sun. I think even your thin Klingon blood could take it then."

"I agree. Besides, washing our bodies could be fun, as long as I get to scrub yours and you scrub mine." A calculating gleam appeared in her eyes as she looked the lanky lieutenant up and down.

"Predator," he said, prompting a laugh and a swift, "And don't you just love it?" from B'Elanna.

"Actually, Tom, just bathing ourselves won't be good enough. Our clothes need it, too, before they can be propped up standing in the corner, waiting for us to put them back on. How can we do this?"

"We could launder our clothes together and then wash up while they are drying; or we could take turns. One of us could bathe while the other washed the clothes in the creek, then vice-versa. The sun will dry the clothes pretty fast, as long as it stays out."

"Sounds reasonable."

After their meal, Tom went outside with the lighter, some vines for fuel, and the cook pot. Upon filling the pot with ice chunks and setting it upon the rough fire to melt the ice into water warm enough for bathing, Tom looked up at the sky. It was no longer a bright orange, even though the sun still was stained a warmer color than its natural yellow-white. It felt warm against his face, and he judged that removing their clothing to wash would not be too uncomfortable.

Retrieving all of their spare clothing, the blankets, and some soap from one of the backpacks, Tom washed their spare clothes, the sleeping bag blankets and all of his underwear in the frigid creek before B'Elanna came outside again.

"Do you want me to wash your clothing first, B'Elanna?"

"It will be warmer in the afternoon, Tom. I'd rather wait until then to wash up myself. So take off your clothes, Paris, and I'll wash them for you." She sent him a come-hither growl. After he stripped the rest of his garments off and handed them to her for washing, Tom sat on a rock, his body wrapped in Neelix's blanket that served as both towel and modesty covering, watching B'Elanna launder his clothes in the creek before spreading them on some nearby rocks to dry.

When she was done washing the clothing, they went up to the cook pot of now-warmed water. Tom rubbed a small chunk of soap on a washcloth and began to wash himself, acutely conscious of B'Elanna's self-interested scrutiny.

"Need help scrubbing your back, Flyboy?" she breathed into his ear, causing him to jump back from where he was standing.

One look at her face told him that she was going to have her way, no matter what he said. A Paris smirk appeared on his face as he handed her the washcloth and soap.

Her hands were strong, and the scrubbing she gave his back, shoulders, and the back of his neck was delicious. When B'Elanna moved around to his front and began to lave his chest, he grabbed her hand and said, "I can reach my chest, you know."

"Just want to make sure we do a thorough job." He relented gladly; he had seldom seen her in such a bubbly mood.

By the time she had moved her attentions from his chest, Tom was groaning, "I don't know how we are going to handle this, B'Elanna, without some 'adjournments' between personal hygiene sessions."

"I don't see anything to complain about with that, Mr. Paris." She sat down on the rock next to him and moved her hand to his bare thigh.

"Glad to hear it, Babe."

"What did you just call me? Baby!" Her romantic mood was immediately broken, and she squeezed his thigh so hard that he yelped. Calling a half-Klingon "Baby" was too close to calling her a weakling, and Tom was reminded once again that while B'Elanna might decry her Klingon side, it could still emerge with a vengeance on very little provocation.

"Not Baby. Babe. It probably started out being 'Baby,' but it's been used to refer to a beautiful woman for a couple of centuries now. A 'Babe' is particularly luscious and desirable. Just like you. Or, if you prefer, I'll just call you 'Be'.' That's Klingon for 'woman,' isn't it?"

"Why do you have to call me anything other than B'Elanna?"

"Hey, if you can call me Flyboy, Helmboy, and Hotshot, I should be able to call you Babe or Be'!" His smirk was fully visible now.

She blew out a bemused breath as she said, "OK, Hotshot, you can call me 'Woman,' if you want to. Your accent is really bad, you know that, don't you?"

"Sure, Be'. But fair is fair."

"Fair is fair," she agreed.

Tom was pushed back against the cliff wall by an engineer with designs upon his body. "I've created a monster." His smile was blissful, and he sounded like he was gloating.

* * *

"Do you want me to bring you anything else, Harry?" Kes placed his cup of Tarkalian tea on the table before him.

"No, this is fine."

"Don't you want any sugar?"

"If you have some, but don't go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble; I'm sure I have some." Kes poked around inside the minuscule storage cabinet next to her replicator. Taking out a small container, she set it in front of Harry from behind him, while she leaned her weight against his back and right shoulder. He was acutely aware of her warm softness and the scent of what seemed like lilac perfume. Kes remained behind him, both of her hands resting lightly on his shoulders, as she asked, "Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

"This is just great." Harry had to twist his body around to address her and found that her lush mouth was mere centimeters from his lips. 'My God,' he thought, 'She's coming on to me. Isn't she?' He became flustered again, as he had in the mess hall when she had insisted that he leave her hand near hers, without saying a word.

When they had gone to see the Doctor yesterday, Harry had convinced himself that he was mistaken about her reason for stroking his hand; she had only wanted to comfort him because of his concerns about Tom and B'Elanna. Tonight, as she took her seat at the table across from him in her quarters and favored him with the full force of those baby blue eyes, he was sure that making him comfortable was not her primary intent.

Her lips parted to admit a sip of tea, and as the cup left her lips, she delicately slipped the tip of her tongue from one side of her upper lip to the other. No, Harry Kim was not feeling particularly comfortable at the moment.

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

"Oh, no, nothing."

"You've gotten so quiet."

Conscious that he had been staring at her, Harry flushed deeply.

"A penny for your thoughts, Harry - that's an old Earth expression," she added helpfully.

Her bow mouth turned upward into a bright smile, bringing to Harry's mind that Kes had shown signs of having psychic powers. If he had been wrong about her coming on to him, and if she could read his thoughts . . . . Harry uneasily reviewed the possible explanations he could give her for his gaffe, without being able to think of anything remotely appropriate. The only utterance he could manage was a barely coherent, "I - um - a penny?"

Her laughter ascended a musical scale of merriment. "What's the matter, are your thoughts worth more than that?" Her body was leaning in towards his again, and the low pitched voice emanating from her grin was even breathier than usual.

"Uh, I guess I'm wondering if you know what I'm thinking already."

"I hope I do, Harry."

He gulped. "What am I thinking, then?"

"I hope you are thinking about how attracted to me you are, because I am very attracted to you."

The tension Harry was feeling changed, and his nervousness faded. Harry thrust his hand out in front of him, and Kes interlaced her fingers with his before closing their hands together in a warm grasp.

"I think we are on the same page, Kes. That's another old Earth expression that means we _are_ thinking the same thing."

For a few minutes, Harry lost himself in Kes' smile, hoping that she was telepathically attuned to him as he indulged himself in thinking delightful thoughts about what he would like to be doing with her, other than holding her hand while they both sipped tea. From the shifting smiles that played upon her lips and reached to her eyes, she might well have been receiving his thoughts.

Then, the mood breaker. Harry suddenly realized that the angelic creature that he was fantasizing about wasn't even four years old yet, prompting him to shake his head and chuckle.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking, Harry Kim, Cradle Robber."

She understood the reference. "Harry, that's not true! Neelix may have been a cradle robber; I was pretty young when we started our relationship. If you compare Ocampan life spans to humans, though, I would be older than you - well into my thirties, at least. I'd be getting close to middle age. I think I must be the cradle robber!"

"Can't be. You don't look a day over two."

As Kes' response turned pensive, she languidly ran her thumb up the inside of Harry's right forearm, eliciting a further thrill in the young operations officer.

"Thanks, Harry. I'm flattered, of course, but I've been thinking more and more about this lately. I've accepted that I'm only going to be around for a short time, compared to a human. Compared to a Vulcan, my life span is like a Kabarra fly's! It's over almost before it's begun. I don't mind, really, but I'm conscious that I don't have any time to waste. I'm going to be four soon, which means my Elogium can't be far in the future - the real one, this time - and I don't have a partner to father a child."

"Didn't Neelix say he would do it?"

She looked away from him, her mood becoming sadder. "Only after thinking about it for a _VERY_ long time, and then he was very relieved when it wasn't the real thing. I think even then he would have preferred to put it off forever, and that's when we were a couple, supposedly committed to each other for life." Her eye gaze returned to Harry's face. "I have a confession to make, Harry. After that happened, I had doubts about my relationship with Neelix, whether I really wanted him to be a father to a child of mine. I still loved him very much, so I put it all out of my mind. I even begged Captain Janeway to bring him back to me when he and Tuvok were turned into Tuvix by that transporter accident. Things weren't really the same, though, and the seed was planted in my mind that being mated to Neelix for life, Ocampan tradition or not, might not be what I wanted for myself."

This confession was difficult for her, Harry could see. Her eyes blinked frequently , and her voice was intensely emotional, not like Kes' usual light, reserved tones. Trying to help relieve her of some of her distress, Harry contributed, "When both parties only live nine years or so, like the Ocampa, I would imagine that mating for life isn't really a hardship. It's different with other races that live so much longer. Mating for life is an ideal, and many are able to do it happily, but not everyone is cut out for that."

"You're right, Harry, of course, and since there are no other Ocampa for me to mate with here, _everyone_ is from a longer-lived species. And that's a big problem for me. If I have a child with a man of another race, the child would have the genetic codes of a short-lived Ocampa and of the longer-lived species. Would the child's life span be like mine, like the father's or maybe a compromise? If it is like the father's or a compromise, I might not even see my son or daughter reach adulthood. The father would be the one to raise the child the rest of the way. He would need to be truly committed to parenthood. I didn't feel that commitment from Neelix when we were together; how can I expect that from him now that we are apart?"

In all honesty, she could not, and Harry knew it. Hearing her speak like this, he comprehended the reason for her seductiveness. She was looking for a father for her child. Harry had a feeling that he was going to be having a lot to think about, and soon.

Draining the last drop of tea from her cup, Kes continued, "That was in my mind for a long time, even though I was trying not to pay any attention to that little voice that was prodding me to do something about it. Then Tieran took over my mind and body, and one of the first things he did was break up with Neelix for me. After I got my body and mind back, I realized that he had only done what I really wanted done but was afraid to do myself. After Tieran, I was . . . different. A different person. Do you know what I am trying to say, Harry?"

"I think so, Kes. After all that's happened in the Delta Quadrant, I don't feel like the same Harry Kim that left Earth, either."

That brought a smile back to her lips. "Well, strictly speaking, you _AREN'T_ the same Harry Kim, at least, not the one that left Earth on this Voyager."

That made him laugh, too, but only for a few seconds. "You're absolutely right, in fact, I guess you could say that I might even be the _SECOND_ replacement Harry Kim. But that wasn't what I was getting at, Kes. Even the replacement Harry Kim changed after the Akiterian prison."

"Harry, you aren't still feeling guilty about that, are you? You were being tortured with that Clamp! Tom understands - he was going through it himself."

"All the same, I shouldn't have gotten so angry with him when he was so sick. He was injured protecting me, and if Captain Janeway and the rest hadn't gotten us out when they did, he would have died, and me too, probably."

"The captain did come though, and you are both fine now. Tom has accepted it; he's put it behind him."

Harry pushed himself away from Kes' table and stood, pacing her living area from one end of the room to the other, until Kes stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Tom doesn't blame you, Harry, he is grateful just to have survived."

"So am I, Kes, but that doesn't mean that I can forget that I almost killed my best friend."

"You didn't kill him."

"No, luckily, I didn't. Some things just don't go away so easily, that's all that I'm saying. Especially when I remember that Harry Kim, replacement or not, had his life saved by a Tom Paris who gave up his own life in another timeline, dimension, whatever, so that I could get back here to be standing in this room with you now."

"And of course, there was that other replacement Harry Kim who was the only survivor - only adult survivor, anyway - of that other Voyager, when the Tom Paris on that ship died, too. Aren't you feeling guilty about that, too, Harry? If you're going to feel guilty, you might as well go all the way with it."

"Kes, please . . . ."

"While we are spilling out all the guilt, Harry, what about me? When I was Tieran, I _KILLED_ people. Maybe I wasn't in my 'right mind' when I did it, but this body is responsible for murder. I can't say that I'm really over that, either, but I am trying to keep it from haunting me."

"Kes . . . " Harry reached out for her, and they embraced for a long time. Finally, when she relaxed her hold, Harry allowed her to straighten up a little so that they could look into each other's faces, but he did not release her from his arms. "You're right about not letting it haunt me. I try not to, but the truth is, no matter which Harry Kim this is, I'm different. Maybe it isn't a bad different, either. I was really naïve when I arrived on Voyager. Did I ever tell you how Tom saved me from wasting a lot of money on junk gems that some Ferengi barkeeper tried to sell me?"

"I don't think so," she giggled lightly, "I'd like to hear about it sometime."

"Maybe later I'll tell you about it," he smiled back. "I guess growing up is just awfully hard, no matter how old you are when you are doing it."

"That's true of any change, Harry, not just growing up. Take it from a very mature, almost-four-year-old Ocampa."

"You are definitely the most mature three-year-old I have ever known."

Harry enfolded her in his arms again, at first, in a friendly hug. As they stood together, however, the ensign felt stronger feelings wash over him, and their hold tightened on each other. Was he feeling his own emotions, or was Kes projecting her own upon him? He finally decided that it didn't matter if he were feeling what Kes was feeling; he was sure that his own attachment to the beautiful woman in his arms was real.

As they held each other, Harry no longer thought of Kes as Neelix's former lover and child "bride" but as the warm, desirable woman to whom he had been attracted for a very long time. He knew that if he had been honest with himself, he would have realized long ago that the sole reason he had not approached Kes as soon as she had been free of Neelix was his own reluctance to let go of Libby.

Why _HAD_ he borrowed all of those replicator rations from her, if not to have had the excuse of repaying them to her, a few at a time? Every time he had "made his loan payment," as they had laughingly called it, Kes and Harry had had what amounted to a date. He hadn't particularly wanted or needed the things he had obtained with the rations, either. Harry had blown them on frivolities.

Loosening his hold on Kes, Harry moved his hands from her back to gently cup her face before he kissed her. Like their hug, the kiss began as a gentle touch but deepened into an intense sharing of their feelings. When their lips parted, his dark eyes shone down into her pure blue ones, reading in them a passion that both realized would not be quenched without a more intimate bonding of their bodies. First, though, there was some unfinished business.

"Kes, I think we have some serious talking to do about Libby, Neelix, and exactly what I can expect when you go into this Elogium of yours." Her delighted grin was only the first of her replies to him.

* * *

Although Kes did not hear any alarm, she awoke at her customary time of 0545 hours. She was not in her customary position, lying in a fetal position on her bed. Instead she found herself curled up on her couch, wrapped in the arms of Harry Kim. They had fallen asleep there after talking half the night. As she rolled her body carefully away from Harry, so as not to disturb him too soon, her face glowed.

She had been feeling for some time that a change was coming, and now that she knew what shape that change would take, Kes felt happier than she had felt at any time in the three years since she left her homeworld forever to embark on this wild adventure to the stars. For the first time in ages, Kes had no doubts at all that her life was following a course that had been preordained for it. Painful as it was to think about from Neelix's point of view, Kes was sure that the Talaxian's one true role in bringing her away from her home planet and onto Voyager had been to deliver her into the arms of Harry Kim.

Loyal Harry, who, until he was ready to finally accept that his life with Libby could not reasonably be expected ever to happen, could not have come to her as he had last night. She wouldn't have wanted him to be any other way. Friendly, yet private, too. A responsible Starfleet officer, yet a passionate lover. The man who would father her child, or perhaps children. Now that she was not under the influence of the Caretaker, would the old Ocampan heritage of each mother having a multiple birth when she came to her Elogium return? Kes wished she had thought to ask the Ocampa who lived on Suspira's array more details about their childbearing; but she had forgotten.

For a moment Kes allowed herself to wish that her life span could be extended for a longer time, to let her be with Harry no matter how long it might take for her child or children to become adults. A few tears glistened in her eyes as Kes ruthlessly set aside her fantasy. Living a long life was not possible for her, that was something she knew intrinsically. Maybe that was just as well for Harry, and perhaps for Libby, too, if she proved just as loyal to him.

Kes had no illusions; she would never see the Alpha Quadrant, even if a shortcut was found for Voyager and her crew eventually. Kes simply knew for a fact that she would be gone by then, but she would make Harry happy for as long a time as she had with him. If Libby was the woman that Kes suspected she might be, if she had waited for Harry until he returned, would she be able to accept half-Harry, half-Ocampan offspring? Kes truly hoped so.

As she ran her fingers through Harry's hair, Kes thought sadly, 'Linnis, the Linnis I once met, you are not here. Harry is my love instead. Please forgive me, Linnis. I pray that your soul will be born into one of our descendants someday, maybe even to be _OUR_ daughter. Just as long as you can find a man like Harry, Linnis, you will be blessed.'

The light touch of Kes' fingers gradually roused Harry from his slumber. "What time is it," he mumbled sleepily.

"Almost 0600, Harry. It's time for both of us to get ready for our shifts."

They stood up, straightening their rumpled clothing as they did, putting their arms around each other for a last embrace before Harry left. As Kes handed Harry the padds that he had brought with him to her quarters, he asked, "Meet you in an hour or so in the mess hall for breakfast?"

"I wouldn't miss it. What time do you think you can get free for lunch?"

"I'm not sure. Sometime between 1200 and 1330, I think. Is it okay if I hail you? If you get hungry, Kes, you can go on ahead, of course."

"I think I'll be able to hold out. We really should be together when we tell Neelix. Dinner here, around 1800."

"I'll be here. Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself. And a change of clothes and a toothbrush, unless you want to replicate them once you're here. I don't have any time to waste, you know!"

He grinned. "No, and I don't either. See you in a bit." As he walked to the door, he turned around again. "Love you."

She smiled. "Love you, Harry."

* * *

Despite the cold outside their den, Tom and B'Elanna felt warm wrapped in their sleeping bag and blankets, their bodies as close together as two bodies could be, touching along their entire lengths to share and conserve body heat. B'Elanna was amazed at the amount of heat Tom's male body could throw off after their passionate embraces.

More would be needed, of course, as the night was only about two thirds over. After sleeping for several hours between lovemaking sessions, however, Tom and B'Elanna were restless and looking for some other activity to pass the time before the desire for sleep reasserted itself. As B'Elanna had suggested that they leave the lights off unless they were absolutely necessary so as to conserve power, their soft voices sounded in utter darkness.

"You're big on Klingon customs, Tom. How about courting me? A love poem would be nice."

"Courting you, Torres? Haven't we already gotten close enough for you to skip the love poems? I've been thinking of us as an old married couple already, in the Klingon way, of course."

"Some student of Klingon tradition you are. Don't you know that you never really get past the courting part? Some matings always need it! Not that we _are_ mated in the Klingon way, anyway. Come on, Paris, sweep me away with your verse."

"I've never found you to be the swept away type, B'Elanna."

"A tall, well-favored, well-connected man like yourself must have a repertoire of poems to impress a woman."

"Not this one."

"Come on, Tom, there must be one you know!"

He sighed. "Okay, B'Elanna. Here's one:

"You know that it would be untrue,

You know that I would be a liar,

If I were to say to you,

Girl, we couldn't get much higher.

Come on, baby, light my fire,

Try . . . "

"Tom, is that one of those dreadful songs you're always singing? The stone-and-whatever-you-call it songs?"

"Rock and roll songs, B'Elanna. It started out that way, but the lyrics have certainly stood the test of time . . . ."

"Forget it, Paris. That does not qualify as love poetry. Come up with something else."

"You know, Torres, if I had expected to be stranded here like this, I would have set aside some time to memorize a few Klingon-approved love poems. I had no idea we would get to this stage of our relationship for some time yet, and I've never been particularly interested in memorizing poetry for its own sake."

"Humor me. We're already skipping the throwing of heavy objects."

"Good thing, too. Just about the only heavy throwable things around here are rocks. If you brain me, Torres, it's gonna be awfully cold in here."

Pressed close to her body, Tom could feel as well as hear her stifle a laugh. He reached out to stroke her, trailing his fingertips up her back and across her shoulders, ending with a gentle caress of her cheekbone. As he turned to kiss her, he heard her say, "Not so fast, Flyboy. I'm still waiting for my love poem."

Sighing again, he thought a moment. "I guess there are a few tried and true poems that I can recall from my tramping-around-the-Alpha-Quadrant days. Let's see . . . I know, here's one:

"There once was a lass from Parduck,

Who found herself down on her luck,

She had nothing to sell but . . . ."

"Dirty limericks don't count either, Paris."

"B'Elanna, within the limited parameters you're allowing me, it's going to be getting awfully cold in here soon."

This time, she could not hold in her laughter. "Tom, you must remember some scrap of poetry that you can recite to me. Or don't you have a head for memorizing?"

"Come on, B'Elanna. You know a pilot has to memorize lots of things, but I never had much use for memorizing love poetry. Before coming on Voyager, I wasn't seeing the class of women who cared much for that sort of thing. They were more interested in credit lines."

"Or beautiful blue eyes."

"Well, maybe that too. I sure didn't have much of a credit line." Tom was chuckling now, too. Deepening the register of his voice as much as he could, he breathed seductively, "If we turned a light on, B'Elanna, I could try the blue eyes on you."

"I already know what they look like, Paris," she replied dryly. B'Elanna did not want to look into those eyes; they might distract her just as much as he hoped they would. "Come on, there must be some verse or two that you know that is really poetry."

"Of course there is. They just wouldn't qualify as love poems, I don't think."

"Recite one, Tom. I may cut you some slack."

Tom shifted his body, hoping she might take pity on him. Several seconds passed, but she wasn't responding. Tom thought over his limited poetic repertoire; there were a few poems, encountered during his student days, that had spoken to him strongly enough for him to remember them in full, but none seemed a good candidate for B'Elanna's request for love poetry.

"Tom. I'm waiting."

"Aren't we the demanding one tonight? All right, there is one poem I know that isn't a song lyric and isn't dirty, but I don't think it will meet your exacting standards as a love lyric. I've been thinking about this one a lot since we got stuck out here in the Delta Quadrant, and the words suit our situation here in a way - especially the icy weather part. But it doesn't even rhyme, at least, not in the version that I know."

"What do you mean, 'version?'"

"The original poem was written in Chinese almost two thousand years ago by a poet named Tu Fu. Maybe it rhymed in Chinese, I'm not sure. I only know it from a translation."

"Well, go on. At this point, I can accept a poem that doesn't rhyme."

Tom gathered up the words of the poem in his head before beginning, thinking that the darkness, in this case, might help him visualize what he had to say. Clearing his throat, he began:

"It is Spring in the mountains.

I come alone seeking you.

The sound of chopping wood echoes

Between the silent peaks.

The streams are still icy.

There is snow on the trail.

At sunset I reach your grove

In the stony mountain pass.

You want nothing, although at night

You can see the aura of gold

And silver ore all around you.

You have learned to be gentle

As the mountain deer you have tamed.

The way back forgotten, hidden

Away, I become like you,

An empty boat, floating, adrift."

When he finished, B'Elanna said nothing for long time. Her first thought was that it was very out of character for Tom Paris to have memorized such an introspective poem. As she savored the words, however, she realized how Tom could have identified strongly with its message. Feeling at sea, seeking something but not really knowing what it was - those were sentiments that she understood all too well herself.

Tom grew impatient. "So, B'Elanna, does it measure up to your high standards?"

She did not know what to say. True, it was not a love poem, but it was beautiful. She said the first words that came into her head: "I don't think I'm very gentle."

He laughed. "Since you don't have a knife to my throat and aren't biting my head off, or biting anything else, for that matter, I think you qualify as 'gentle' for the moment. So, do you like it? I've been remembering it a lot lately. 'Cast adrift' . . . ."

"It's hard to believe that that poem is so old."

"I guess some things don't change, Torres." He spoke softly to her and began to tickle her ear with the tip of his tongue.

"It's close, Tom. But not quite. Try again."

"B'Elanna! Take pity on me, please!"

"One more try, Tom."

Another big, dramatic sigh erupted from the pilot as he plumbed his memory for something else to please his lover. Finally, he recalled something that might work. "OK, there is one other I know that maybe is a love poem, if you think about it.

"This Is Just to Say

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold."

"Tom, that's no more a love poem than the other one was."

"I don't know, B'Elanna. It's obviously a 'loving' message from one person to another - I always thought it was from a husband to his wife. I'm not sure that he was only talking about plums, either." His suggestive leer was lost in the darkness.

"Maybe so, but I . . . ." She stopped when she felt his body shift, followed by the sensation of his hand traveling around her waist. Seconds later, his mouth closed upon one of her breasts while the other was kneaded softly by one of his hands.

B'Elanna groaned at his touch as he lavished attention upon her body. After several blissful minutes, she heard him murmur, "Such sweet plums, so sweet, so cold," as his breath reached her face. He kissed her deeply, surely. Again she heard him say something, which finally penetrated her distracted brain as the word, "delicious," as Tom proceeded to show her exactly how delicious she was to him.

Afterward, with both of them sighing contentedly, B'Elanna was willing to concede to Tom that, yes, perhaps that plum thing qualified as a love poem after all.

* * *

Kes and Harry met outside the mess hall and exchanged a quick buss on the lips. Harry was nervous. He knew that they had to approach Neelix about their relationship, but he was not looking forward to it. After some debate, they had agreed to meet at 0145 for lunch, which was well after the rest of the crew should have finished eating. As they had expected, there were only a handful of diners in the mess hall when they entered, all in the final stages of their own meals.

"Kes, Harry, the two of you are certainly having a very late lunch. I've run out of Pleeka rind and grub casserole, I'm sorry to say."

"No problem, Neelix. What else is on the menu?" Harry was now exceedingly pleased to have come late for lunch.

"Not too much, I'm afraid. I have some of these bread circles that Larson likes so much - I think he calls them 'bagels.' And there is fruit and some sweet tuber pie for dessert. I can cook you up some eggs for a main entrée, but there isn't much else available, unless you want to replicate something."

"Eggs and bagels sound great, Neelix. I'll replicate some cream cheese for the bagels. And that pie sounds good. Those are the tubers from Tantrum IV, right?"

"Yes, everyone seems very enthusiastic about them." Neelix did not look too enthusiastic himself as he mentioned this. "I imagine that Lt. Torres and Mr. Paris have been eating a lot of them, where they are." His demeanor became even more subdued.

"Neelix, I am sure they're fine. Don't worry." Kes gave him the encouraging smile that she had given him so many times since they had arrived on Voyager.

"I'm sure. I just do get a little concerned, you know. Tom and I have become great friends, and I admire Lt. Torres so much. Isn't she an amazing person?" Without waiting for an answer to his obviously rhetorical question, Neelix added, "I'll get these eggs ready for you then. The bagels are over there. Take a seat, and I'll bring the eggs over to you when they are ready."

This suited the needs of Kes and Harry well, since Kes wanted to speak to Neelix in a more personal manner than leaning over the mess hall counter. The ensign went to the food replicator to get the cream cheese, while Kes assembled the rest of their choices, including the tuber pie, and carried them to a table in the back of the mess hall.

By the time Neelix brought the cooked eggs to the table, Harry and Kes were deeply involved in a discussion about wedding traditions from various cultures. When they saw Neelix coming toward them, they tried to make it all sound very academic. Neelix asked them if he could sit down at the table with them after delivering their food to them. "The rush is over, as you can see; and I think it would be nice to have a little chat about . . . things. You know."

"Yes, Neelix, it would be good to have a chat. There is something that Harry and I need to talk to you about anyway."

The Talaxian smiled somewhat sadly. "I don't think you need to actually tell me the subject. I noticed the way you were holding hands here the other night. I knew it was going to happen someday, Kessie; and I don't mind saying that it would have gone very hard for me, very hard indeed, if you had picked someone who wasn't worthy of you. I should have known you better than to worry about that. Mr. Kim, I can't think of a better man for Kes than you."

Kes said nothing, but she leaned over the table to give her former lover a hug and a kiss. Harry felt his eyes burn a little. "Thank you, Neelix. It means everything to me to hear you say that. I've been dreading this conversation all morning because we didn't want to hurt you, and you've made it easy for us to tell you. I mean, we didn't even have to tell you, you told us!"

Harry and Neelix shook hands. The Talaxian may have been hiding a bit of a broken heart as he gave them his blessing, but he meant what he had said about Harry and about realizing the inevitability of someone else becoming Kes' partner. When she did not immediately return to him after leaving him in the Holoresort months ago, Neelix gradually accepted that it was over between them. Harry Kim was a fine young man. Morale Officer Neelix quickly turned the conversation to a safer subject: wedding traditions, without the veneer of pretending the subject was only being discussed as a random subject of conversation. Neelix became extremely enthusiastic, pushing for a big wedding celebration, somewhat to Kes' and Harry's dismay.

"I, of course, will be the best choice to portray the father of the bride, since your own dear father has passed away, Kes," Neelix insisted.

"Neelix, when we thought I was having my Elogium, the Doctor had that role. He might expect to perform that same role again."

"Well, he might, of course, but that time I was going to be the groom. This time I am the logical choice, as I am the closest you have to family, you know that, Kes."

Harry could sense that Kes was unhappy about being caught in the middle of this discussion. Fortunately, Harry noticed someone else entering the mess hall that Kes and Harry needed to approach about their plans and who might be able to come to their assistance. "Captain Janeway! Do you think you could come over here for a moment?"

"Of course, Ensign. Just let me get some of Neelix's marvelous special brew first." Captain Janeway was constitutionally unable to call Neelix's Delta Quadrant concoctions "coffee." The captain and her mug of liquid arrived at the table, taking in the groupings at a glance. Neelix was on one side of the table, while on the facing side, Harry sat next to Kes, his arm draped possessively around her.

"There was something you wanted to talk to me about, Ensign?" She tried to keep herself from smiling, but the grin on Harry's face was so self-satisfied, she had a hard time controlling herself. And the arm around Kes' shoulders, could it be?

"Yes, Captain. We were wondering if we could meet with you after our shifts today to discuss a few things." Harry squeezed Kes' shoulder as he took the plunge. "Wedding plans and a request for bigger quarters for Kes and myself."

The captain's response was immediate and joyful, although she was definitely surprised. "Congratulations to both of you, but I have to ask, when did this all happen?"

"Actually, Harry and I have been feeling this way about each other for quite a while, Captain. The only sudden thing about it is that we just recognized it. We told Neelix this afternoon, and now we are in the middle of planning a wedding. Captain, my head is starting to spin! I didn't know there was so much involved in planning a human-style wedding."

"What is involved in an Ocampan wedding, Kes?" Both Harry and Neelix looked at each other abashed. Neither one had thought to ask her that very obvious question.

"Actually, there isn't a formal wedding ceremony. The rituals all center around the beginning of the Elogium, and the couple just carries on as mates afterward, raising their child or children."

Neelix's fluffy eyebrows rose to an arch the way Tuvok's Vulcan brows do as he heard the word "children." 'Yes,' he thought, 'Better Mr. Kim than me.'

"Kes, some human ceremonies aren't much more elaborate than that. You can have a huge affair with everyone on board in attendance, or you can have something small. The minimum number of people in attendance is usually considered to be the couple themselves, two witnesses, and the person who is to perform the ceremony. As captain of Voyager, I would expect that that would be my role. It can take a few minutes; or, as I understand still occasionally occurs in some Earth cultures, it can take days, with hundreds of people there."

"I don't think we want to do this with hundreds of people there, Captain." Kes looked a little overwhelmed at the prospect.

"You don't have to decide this minute. Take a while to talk things over."

"I'd like it settled pretty quickly, though, Captain," Kes said earnestly. "I don't have the time to waste!"

"It's okay, Sweetheart, we can take a few days to discuss it, at least. Maybe do some research. Besides, we aren't going to want to do anything about it until we get Tom and B'Elanna back anyway." At Harry's words, everyone nodded their head. The fate of the chief engineer and the helmsman had slipped their minds in the emotional rush of the moment, but now they were all brought back down a peg.

"A good point, Mr. Kim. And now, if I am not mistaken, both of us are due back on the bridge."

"Aye, Captain. We'll talk to you some more, Neelix, after we've had a chance to sort things out ourselves." Kes agreed to this as Harry leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Don't you worry about cleaning up, now. I'll take care of it," Neelix said, as he gathered up the dishes while the captain and the ensign walked out of the mess hall. "Kes, don't you have to get back to sickbay?" he added, when he realized that Kes was not leaving with the others.

"In a minute, Neelix. There is something else I wanted to talk to you about, but I didn't want to say it in front of Harry." As her serious expression registered with the Talaxian, he stopped his fussing and took up her hands.

"What's wrong, Sweeting?"

"Neelix, when we were together, we never spoke of this; but now, with Harry, I need to ask you a very huge favor, one that I will not be in a position to ever repay."

"Anything, Kes."

She took a deep breath to settle her emotions before continuing, "I am not going to have a very long life span, as we all know. That means that Harry is going to be left alone, a widower, as they say in Federation standard, at a very young age. Assuming that everything goes as we expect it may, that means that he will probably have a child to raise. Maybe the child would be an adult, like an Ocampa, but I think it would be more likely that he or she would still be very young. Harry's family is far away. He'll need help. If a lot of the people on this ship start to have babies - and I think that might start to happen soon - it may not be easy for him, since he will be on his own. I wanted to ask you to help Harry, and any children we might have, if . . . I mean when . . . ." Kes had to stop. It was much harder to talk about this with Neelix than she expected.

"Kessie." Neelix enfolded her in his arms. "Of course I will help him. I think I am much better suited to being an Uncle Neelix than I ever would have been to being a Daddy. I'll get to have some fun, but then I get to go home by myself, too!" That elicited a big smile from Kes. She had to agree, Neelix would make a much better uncle. "Don't you worry, from now on, you just think of me as your big brother Neelix. You let Harry know that, too, won't you?"

"Neelix, you are being wonderful about this. I really do love you, Neelix, but it is better this way, isn't it?"

"You know, I really think it is. And I love you, too." They shared a brotherly/ sisterly sort of hug, then said their good-byes.

While cleaning up the dishes as he had promised, Neelix thought about the promise he had made to Kes. Despite feeling a bit melancholy about not being with her anymore, he had to admit that he really meant what he had said to Harry and Kes. He had been dreading being a father to her child. He had loved his family, but since he lost them, his life had been very different from what it might have been had he remained on his home planet. Caring for a child was such a huge responsibility, one that he knew he did not wish to assume. Knowing how much having a child meant to Kes, he realized that they weren't suited at all to each other. Having a niece or nephew - now that sounded like a lot more fun, even if they weren't going to have any handsome spots.


	5. Compatibility

Lieutenant Torres was still curled up in bed two hours after sunrise. On board Voyager, she usually would have been awake and on duty for a several hours by this time of day. In this less than enchanting valley, she stayed warm in bed for as long as she could get away with it. B'Elanna was getting restless, however. She really needed to use the latrine corner but dreaded baring her bottom to the frigid air to accomplish what she needed to do.

Hearing the step of her lanky companion, she called out of the doorway, "What color is the sky today?"

"It's gray, actually. Stormy gray. I think it's going to either rain or snow. Maybe both. I brought in the rest of the vines from that patch down by the stream. I don't think we need to worry about running out of fuel for the fire, but staying in bed as much as possible today would probably be a good idea."

"Oh really?" B'Elanna sniggered.

"Relax, I won't paw you all day long. Just most of the day. Better get up and get your breakfast now, before that wind starts charging out of the crack in the ceiling again."

Groaning, the engineer without a ship had to agree that hiding inside and delaying the inevitable might be worse in the long run than just gritting her teeth and getting it over with. Quickly pulling on her jumpsuit and shoes, B'Elanna emerged from her hibernation and stalked to the back of the cave, grumbling constantly. "Don't you look, now," she called out.

"Such becoming modesty. I'm not interested in looking, Be'. I have other senses I prefer to use on you."

"Liar."

"I am not lying about having other senses I like to use on you."

"You like to look, too." Her retort drew answering laughter from Tom that echoed in the stone chamber.

Coming near the fire, she washed her hands in frigid water reserved for that purpose in a hunk of granite. B'Elanna had turned it into a basin by hollowing out a depression in it with her phaser.

"What would you like to eat this morning, ma'am?"

"Not ration bars. There are only a couple of them left."

"I guess we'd better not have any today, then. Chocolatey potatoes, Lieutenant? Or would you prefer the celery flavored ones?"

"I'm getting pretty tired of these roots, Tom. It's a good thing they taste good, or I would be refusing to eat them by now."

"Do you feel like pounding those seeds into meal? We can try making something out of it. Baked mush, perhaps?"

"Sounds awful," she said, crinkling her nose in disgust.

Tom had built up the fire. They sat around it, enjoying the warmth it put out while making and drinking Vulcan Ear Tea and consuming a few of the roots that had been cooked the previous night. They chatted a little, but as the wind from the cave roof increased, B'Elanna became increasingly more uncomfortable.

"Would you like to retreat back to the den, B'Elanna? It isn't going to be very comfortable out here today, even in the daytime, unless it clears up later."

"I know, but I get so bored lying in there all the time." Getting a look at his hurt expression, she quickly added, "I'm not getting bored with what we are _doing_ in there, Tom, just with having to stay huddled up in there for so many hours at a time. I like to move around, pace a little. Spending all night in there is starting to get to me. If we have to start spending days in there, too, I'm going to go insane."

"Me, too, I have to confess. We should do something different today in our hidey-hole since it's daylight. I'll just have to figure out another way to help you burn up all that extra energy, that's all."

His smirk appeared, and she was tempted to throw something at him. Regrettably, his comment about the only heavy objects available being rocks happened to be true.

"Be', how about we play some cards today. Larson was kind enough to leave us a deck."

"Cards?"

"Sure. Gin. Poker. Maybe a little Rulgar. What do you say?"

"Any betting involved?"

"Oh, we could, just to make it interesting. You ever hear of Strip Poker?"

"As a matter of fact I have, Tom, but I've never played it before. From what I've heard, though, I don't think I'd mind playing with you."

"That's what I love about you, B'Elanna. That spirit of adventure."

* * *

By midafternoon, both were so bored with playing cards, even strip poker having lost its appeal, that they spent a little time outside the den, eating another meal and checking out the weather. Tom's prediction about it both snowing and raining had come true. The landscape outside was covered with a dreary coat of snow that had fallen earlier in the day. The snow layer was now in the process of being saturated by a steady rain. B'Elanna stood at the cavern entrance. Tom had his arms wrapped around her from the back, blocking the breeze that was blowing through the cave from the ceiling crack in the rear.

"Do you think it will turn to snow again tonight, Tom?"

"Probably. We have to hope that it stops by sundown or there could be a lot of snow out there by morning. If you think you're bored now from being inside all day, think how you'd feel if we were snowed in by a blizzard."

She shivered. "Did you ever live in a cold climate like this before?"

"Only for a couple of years. My father had a few diplomatic-type postings on the European continent. There was a fair amount of cold weather and snow there. The skiing was fun, though. What about you?"

"No, my mother couldn't tolerate the cold as well as I can, and you know how wonderful I am about it."

"My father wasn't very good in the cold, either. The admiral always had to have the environmental controls cranked up all the way in winter." He hesitated; Tom had been wanting to ask her a question about her father, and he wondered if this would be a good time to broach the subject. Might as well try. "What about your father, Be'? How much do you remember about him?"

"Not a lot. Sometimes I can remember what he looked like, but it's hard to picture him now. I remember him holding me, though. He used to read to me when I was little; he had a very deep voice. And we played games that made me laugh - he laughed a lot, which my mother almost never did. And it's funny, I can remember that he wore some kind of scent - I guess it was for shaving - whenever I smell it on someone, I still think of him."

"Did you ever try to find him after you grew up? If your mother was giving you a hard time about being too human, he might have worried he would only make matters worse for you if he tried to contact you or visited you when you were young."

She was silent for a long time. "He still should have tried."

"So even when you got to the Academy, you never looked up his posting in the Starfleet records, to find out where he was?"

"No."

The flatness in her reply saddened him. He understood; she had been too proud to do it. "Maybe you can still find out something about him from the Starfleet personnel files on Voyager. They'd be pretty skimpy, but there might be something in them. You should try it, B'Elanna." Feeling her stiffen in his arms, he bent down and nuzzled her on the back of her ear. "But only if you want to, of course."

"Hrumph." His final comment was made just in time to prevent her from lashing out at him. "So Tom, since we are talking about my parents, what about your mother? You never talk about her. What was she like?"

"My mother was great, B'Elanna. She always tried to keep my father from going overboard when he started pushing me. She didn't always come out on top, but she always tried. It isn't like she didn't encourage us, too, she did, but it never felt like we were being shoved into anything. Mom had a lot of responsibility, being an admiral's wife - planning parties, things like that - but she always had time for us. My sisters and I could always talk to her. And it's funny, when my mother asked me to do something, I usually did it without dragging my feet too much. She had a way of making an order seem like something you wanted to do anyway."

"Like Janeway?"

He chuckled in her ear. "The way Janeway touches you sometimes when she gives an order, that does remind me a little of Mom in a way. Don't let the captain know that, though, she may not appreciate it."

"Tom, when is the last time you saw your mother?"

A sudden sharp squeeze startled B'Elanna, and she felt him bury his face against the back of her neck. "Tom?" she asked, her heart sinking. Her query had seemed innocuous, but plainly, Tom was as sensitive to this question as B'Elanna had been to being asked about finding her father.

Eventually, he was able to say, almost inaudibly, "In the courtroom, when I was sentenced to Auckland. She was crying so hard . . . "

B'Elanna turned around to face him, sincerely sorry for having asked him. His eyes were tightly closed, as if to block the bitter memory from his sight. As B'Elanna stroked his bearded cheek gently with her gloved hand, he leaned his face into her hand.

"Tom, I think we've been watching this miserable drizzling rain long enough. Let's go back inside our den and warm up a little."

His eyes slowly opened. Turning his lips to where her hand still lingered by his jaw, he kissed her on the palm of her glove as he said in a low voice, "Yes, let's."

* * *

At the sight of Harry, Kes's face lit up. "Hello, Harry, this is a surprise!" Then another reason for his coming to Sickbay suddenly occurred to her, causing her welcoming smile to turn serious. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm fine. I had some news for the Doctor and thought that it would be a good excuse to come see you."

"In that case, you can address me directly, Ensign." The Doctor briskly walked out of his office. "What is it, Mr. Kim?"

"Doctor, we've made a lot of progress with the engines and the circuitry, so even though some things still need repair, the holodeck replicators aren't needed for parts any more. Lt. Carey has opened them to other uses. I hope you don't mind, but I put your name down for a reservation for Holodeck One for 2330 hours. You don't mind going so late, do you? I didn't think it would matter when you went, as long as you didn't have any patients."

"I can go into the holodeck, now?"

Harry could not tell if the prospect thrilled or frightened the Doctor. Did a hologram actually "feel" anything? "If you are too busy to use the holodeck, Kes and I will be glad to take the time from you."

"No, that's quite all right. It was just a little disconcerting, that's all. Last time I went, Lt. Paris was with me."

"Harry and I will be glad to go with you, Doctor, if you want us to come." Harry tried to catch her eye, but she would not look at him. Gloomily, he realized that his other plans for the evening would have to be put on hold if the Doctor said yes.

"Thank you for the offer, Kes, but this first time, I should go alone, I think. Perhaps another time."

"Of course, Doc. Some other time." Harry's enthusiasm returned.

* * *

"Mmmm . . . .that feels wonderful, Harry. Don't stop. Oh, yes, Harry, yes . . . "

Harry moved his kneading hands from Kes' neck and down her spine, pressing his thumb into each vertebrae as he found it, prompting ever more enthusiastic groans from his Ocampan fiancée with every knob of bone he fingered in his travels. Finding them became easier as he worked his way down to the small of her back, where the thickened skin covering the _elogia_ thinned out the further down he went. By the time he reached the location of the last bones that he could massage with his strong thumbs, Harry had Kes writhing in exquisite pleasure. It was strange to have a lover with a primary erogenous zone down her spine, but, this was the Delta Quadrant, Harry Kim was a Starfleet officer, and weird _was_ part of the job.

* * *

"Kes."

"Mm-hmm?"

"Can you give me a little more of an anatomy lesson?"

She lazily turned her head towards his. "Didn't we do enough of 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' a little while ago to suit you?"

Harry had never seen Kes with as self-satisfied a smirk as the one he was seeing now. His own face assumed a similar expression when he bent down to her ear to whisper, "I have a feeling that that's a lesson I will want to have repeated over and over again, but the visible anatomy isn't what I wanted to talk about." He planted a chain of kisses along the edge of her elfin-shaped ear. "I was curious to learn why the Ocampa make love pretty much the way other humanoid species do, even though the mom carries her babies in a birth sac on her back."

Flopping herself onto her back, Kes grabbed hold of Harry's hands and poised them above her abdomen. "The equivalent of the human ovary is located here," she said, patting his left hand on the middle of her flat tummy, right over the navel, which in an Ocampan woman was located in the very center of her abdomen, below the waist. "There are two ovaries, like in humans, but they lie so close together that it almost looks like there is only one, sort of like the Terran nuts . . . I can't remember what they are called, but they are beige and oval shaped, with a seam all around them."

"Could be walnuts. There is a thin, hard membrane between the halves, and from the outside there is a line all around, showing the separation of the shell halves."

"That's what they look like. They are larger than walnuts, though. All right, so, there are tubes leading out from the outside of each ovary. When the Elogium starts, a flood of eggs comes out of each ovary and flows down the tubes into the vagina where they meet with the father's sperm."

Kes pulled his hands along a line up the center of her abdomen until she reached a spot just beneath her ribcage. "The eggs and sperm travel up the migration tube inside the body, reaching the spine at about here. The migration tube works kind of like the digestive system - by a peristaltic action that is maintained through coitus. That's why we have to make love for days, Harry." The way she said it made the prospect daunting, but desirable.

"Kes, I don't know if I will have that kind of stamina!"

"Yes, you will. That sticky stuff on my hands and my swollen tongue will have hormones in them that you will get from me to help stimulate you. You'll do just fine."

"Whatever you say."

"To go on, then, the tube splits to go around the spine and enters the _elogia_, the birth sacs, at this level." Kes had moved Harry's hands until they were now in the valley between her breasts.

"The surviving eggs and sperm, which are now embryos, flow into one _elogium_ or the other. The embryos try to attach to the wall of the sacs, but most die off. Only the strongest survive."

Kes stretched her arms up and over her head while stretching sinuously, smiling up at him so enticingly that Harry couldn't help kissing her. He was enjoying the response he was getting, when the implications of what she had said hit him. "Kes, there are two sacs?"

"Yes, Harry, there are a pair of sacs. Ages ago, when the Ocampa lived on the surface, all births were multiples. Usually twins, but a fair number of quadruplets were also born, since each mother only had one Elogium in her life. The Ocampa would have died off long before the Caretaker came if that weren't so. The dissident movement thought that the Caretaker was causing all the singleton births with the nutritional supplements he provided. That's one of the reasons why we were growing our own foods. If that is correct, you and I are more likely to have twins than a single baby. I guess I should have told you this before."

Kes looked contrite, as Harry did seem a little stunned. After a very long minute of contemplation, however, he smirked a little and held up his hands to help her to a sitting position. "I think we can handle whatever comes, although I'm not sure what I'll do if it is quadruplets! Go crazy, I guess. That is, if we are even genetically compatible enough so that we don't need test tube help, like Klingons and humans have to do when they mate with one another."

"Oh, we are compatible, Harry, I checked with the Doctor. Twenty-two pairs of chromosomes, plus the gender pair. He was surprised that we were so similar. We shouldn't have any trouble at all reproducing." She pulled herself around to sit facing him on his lap, her legs wrapped around him, her arms around his back, and kissed him.

"That's good to know. And this is good, too," Harry said, a twinkle in his eye.

Kes asked him, "Why is this good?"

"Because with you sitting on my lap like this, I can massage your spine like it was the keys of my clarinet."

He began to finger her spine like he was playing a tune, and Kes threw her head back, laughing ecstatically, "I love it when you play the clarinet, Harry . . . oh, Harry!"

* * *

Tom stared at the turbulent stream crashing through the narrow defile at the western end of the valley. He didn't think that they would be able to make it through, unless they used the climbing equipment to scramble parallel to the stream a meter or so above the level of the water whenever there was a low spot. The problem was, Tom could not see past the bend in the gorge. The bend was about one hundred or so meters from where he was standing. He knew from his tricorder readings that the gorge extended beyond it for a total of two kilometers, but whether or not the footing was good enough to permit them to walk to the end of the gorge was a major question. That needed to be settled if they were to try leaving that way. It was an iffy proposition, to be sure.

Starfleet's standard tricorder was a terrific tool for telling you where something specific that you were looking for was located, as it did when guiding Tom and B'Elanna to the vein of dilithium crystals. It was even better at examining the composition of a substance, such as evaluating foodstuffs for nutritional value, for example. That function had been just as essential during their exercise in survival on this planet. It was even good for measuring geological formations, such as how tall a cliff was, or how deeply a rock formation extended.

Tom knew from the tricorder he was holding in his hands that there was a much more open area beginning two kilometers away, but he could not tell whether it was a wide space in a much larger gorge or the beginning of a new, sizable valley. Two kilometers of rock were in the way, obscuring the readings for the open area. He could also not precisely measure the gorge walls past the bend to determine if any rock shelves extended above the stream to help their climb. There were more specialized tricorders carried by cartographers that would tell you that, but no one expected Tom and B'Elanna to need one of those on this mission.

"What do you think, Tom? Can we make it?" B'Elanna picked her way carefully down the slope to the shelf on which he was standing.

"I can't tell. Not enough data. Do you want to try triangulating the tricorders to see if we can get a better outline of the cliff face past the bend?"

"I don't think we can get far enough apart to use triangulation unless one of us gets on the other side of the stream." They looked at the churning, foaming water. It was a good ten meters across to the other bank, with no decent place to ford. "You can try to get across if you want to, Tom. I don't think I'd like to try it."

"I think I'll pass, too. It's too bad, though. If we hit a shelf like we did during the last stages of the climb for the dilithium, we would be in good shape. As long as we could find shelter before night fell again, that is."

"Too risky this time of year."

"Agreed."

As they climbed back up to their valley's floor, B'Elanna asked. "Do you think it's worth checking out the other exit tomorrow? I don't recall what it was like from my trip in that direction the first day we were stuck here."

"We can hold off for a couple more days, if you want. Food isn't going to be a problem; the roots are abundant here even if they are getting boring to eat. It's only the fuel that's getting scarce." The reasonably long-burning vines were starting to run out; they had to go farther and farther afield to find a patch to exploit. The knotted straw was not a long-term solution. B'Elanna had been right; they did take too much work for the heat and light they put out. Plus, they needed the straw for fresh bedding.

Arriving back at the valley floor, Tom got a good look at the load of vines and foods B'Elanna had found, piled on top of Neelix's blanket. "Did you dig up every root and patch of Vulcan-Ear Tea you could find in this valley, B'Elanna?"

"Don't be such a baby, Paris. Just twist the end up, hoist it on your shoulder, and start marching. You're strong enough to manage your half of this puny load." He shot her an exaggeratedly hurt look but did as she said. An hour later, they reached the mouth of their cave.

"Home, Sweet Home," Tom called out sarcastically. After sorting and stowing away the food and fuel vines in the cavern, Tom walked outside and strode out toward the cliff. On the off chance that it would be different this time, he hit his comm badge. "Paris to Voyager. Come in Voyager." Silence was his reply.

"Tried your badge again, didn't you, Tom."

"Caught me."

"Yes, I did," B'Elanna chuckled, grabbing him around the waist.

He bent down to kiss her lips. "Mmm. Do you have some sort of disciplinary measure you want to use on me?"

"Let me think about something appropriate."

They stood wrapped up in each other for a while. The question they really wanted answered was looming over them more every day. Where was Voyager? Now that the sky was Earth-blue, close to its natural bluish-purple, they should have heard from them. It had been almost a week by the ship's time, over four days down here on the planet, but the skies were silent to their hails. Up to now they had refused to talk about it, but Tom gave voice to what he had been thinking for most of their stay planetside.

"You know, Be', I kind of wish you were up there on Voyager."

"Getting tired of my company?"

"Not at all. I wouldn't have had nearly as much fun if Harry, say, were here instead of you. It's just that I wish Voyager's best engineer was up there fixing whatever it is that must have gotten broken for them not to have picked us up by now."

"What if Voyager just isn't there anymore? If it was destroyed. How long do you think we'd last if we never get picked up?"

"It's hard to say. The winter is harsh at this elevation. If we went out of the mountains, toward the eastern coast, it might not be so bad. We aren't too far from there. We would still have to wait out the rest of this winter in another valley, though. Maybe we could find one with a better cave."

"You don't think we could stay here, either, then."

"I don't think that there are enough resources for us here, do you?"

"No," she sighed. "The tubers are really getting old with me, Tom. They fill our stomachs and are fairly nourishing, but they aren't really nutritionally balanced. And when our clothing wears out, we could have serious problems. I haven't seen anything that we could use to make cloth, and there aren't any animals for us to skin."

"Maybe in the warmer weather there would be some kind of vegetation we could use. Fig leaves, perhaps?"

"Fig leaves?"

"Sure. I wouldn't mind being Adam to your Eve, Lt. Torres, even if this place isn't exactly the Garden of Eden."

"At least we wouldn't have to worry about any Cain or Abel."

"What! You mean you know all about Adam and Eve? I thought I was going to have another chance to entertain you with a story."

She sniffed at his mock look of shock. "I _HAVE_ taken an Earth cultural history course or two in my time." She rubbed her face in his shoulder a moment, as she returned to her point. "You do understand, Tom, that even if we could figure out a way to survive here, we wouldn't be Adam and Eve. We couldn't have any children. Klingons and humans need a lot of technical help to mate, which my mother loved to tell me whenever she felt it hadn't been worth the trouble to conceive me."

"I'm glad she did go to the trouble, B'Elanna." He brushed her hair with his hand. "And I love you enough to marry you anyway, children or not."

"You won't give up on that Klingon marriage stuff, will you?" B'Elanna laughed, wishing that he loved her even more than just "enough."

His mood turned serious. "No, I won't. I care for you too much. But the truth is, I'm glad I can't get you pregnant, because I was beginning to worry about that. This isn't much of a place to raise a kid. We'd have enough trouble surviving here for long; a baby would have no chance. I don't think I'd like to see anything like that happen."

She was silent. Watching a child wither away in a place like this would be terrible to see.

Trying to lighten the mood, Tom gave her a quick hug, then released her to grab her hand. They paced along the cliff, just to release some energy. "We can try to find another exit from this valley and look for someplace else more hospitable again tomorrow, B'Elanna. If only Janeway had been able to land a shuttle here, we'd have had more supplies, warmer shelter, and better transportation to go house hunting." He sighed in a way that she had come to know was the prelude for a joke.

She looked up at him suspiciously. "What?"

"I didn't say anything." The blue eyes were glinting with humor.

"You've got something else to say, Paris. What is it?"

"I was just thinking that there _IS_ one reason I'm glad they didn't send a shuttle. Keeping warm with another person around would have cramped my style."

"You're reverting to pighood, Tom," she said severely, but her shoulders were shaking with laughter as she gave him a gentle tap on his shoulder. "Don't make me break anything."

"You could fix me up afterward."

" Assuming I wanted to!" Continuing their banter, the Adam and Eve of this world walked arm and arm down to the cave.


	6. Bad Timing

Chakotay sat in the pilot's chair, but he was allowing young Ensign Jim Joseph to pilot the shuttle from the co-pilot's seat. The commander approved of Mr. Joseph's handling of the craft. "Nice flying, Ensign. It looks like you've been doing your homework."

"Thank you, Commander. I've been getting a lot of flight time lately with Lt. Paris. He's a real good teacher."

"Does he sprinkle his lessons with as many jokes as he does everything else?"

The young man smiled. "Yeah, I guess, but there always seems to be a point to his stories, you know? After I'm finished with a lesson with him, I can always see that the jokes fit in somehow with what he's teaching. He's pretty patient, too. I remember one time, we were checking out a repaired shuttle - you probably remember that, don't you, sir? When the shuttle jumped into warp and slammed us all around? The inertial damper field started to fluctuate some, and I got pretty sick, to tell you the truth."

"That was after the "asteroid" bombardment incident."

"That was the time. Well, anyway, we had trouble with all the systems for just long enough for us to land in that asteroid field that hid us from the sensors. I was sure we were going to crash into one of the asteroids. There were so many of them, but somehow Lt. Paris managed to steer us around them long enough for us to get things shut down and to stop the shuttle. He seemed so calm. Then he cracked some joke about how scared he was, which I didn't believe for a second, but it helped me feel a lot better."

"I am glad to hear Mr. Paris is a good teacher. I haven't had the pleasure of having any classes with him."

"Did you ever have his father at the Academy, Commander?"

"No, he was doing lot of other things for Starfleet at the time, so I never was able to take any classes with him."

"You didn't miss much in my opinion, sir. He was at the Academy for my first two years there, and I had him for Survival Training. He was good at giving you the facts, I'll grant him that. But I hated the way he graded."

"Didn't do so well?"

"That wasn't it. I got an A- for the course. What bothered me was that he picked certain people that he would give a hard time to, and no matter what they did, he marked them down for it. There was one guy there, from one of the colonies, who was phenomenal at everything we did in wilderness training. He was in my group for the wilderness test. Well, everyone in our group got an A but Jareth. He got a B-, even though he was our leader! If all of us got an A, how could he get a B-? Jareth would never say anything, but after semester break was over, the rest of us went to the Admiral's office to respectfully ask him to reconsider the grade. Do you know what he said?"

"No, what?"

"Admiral Paris said that anyone who was raised on a wilderness world should have done everything perfectly. Now, as far as the rest of us could tell, Jareth _HAD_ done everything perfectly. We could never figure out what it was that the admiral thought wasn't perfect, and he wouldn't tell us what it was, either. That was pretty unfair, I thought. At least he could have pointed out what could have been done better. I made sure I didn't take any more classes with him after that. I sure wouldn't have wanted for him to have been my father, if you know what I mean, sir."

"I think I do, Mr. Joseph." The commander and the ensign both fell silent. Even though Chakotay had not seen eye to eye with his own father much of the time, Kolopak at least had tried to be fair to his son. Tom had never made a secret of the fact that he and his father had not gotten along. The ensign's story shed a little more light on a possible source of Tom Paris' problems with authority. Perhaps Chakotay's own troubles with Paris had little at all to do with Chakotay himself, but were simply a legacy of his history with his father. Captain Janeway always seemed to be able to keep Paris in line. It was something that the commander would ruminate upon later, when he had the chance.

Ensign Joseph's announcement of, "We're at the edge of the nebula, Commander," brought Chakotay's attention back to the matter at hand.

All social conversations ceased. Megan Delaney and Ensign Vorik, who were acting as the technicians on this flight of the shuttle, went to their tasks. The extra instrumentation installed within the Sacajawea helped them obtain a great deal of data on the solar flares and other conditions within the Tantrum system. Several hours of hard work later, the shuttle returned to Voyager, mission accomplished.

Kathryn Janeway was waiting for the return of the commander and the away team in the shuttle maintenance bay. She and Ensign Elaine Myers, the nominal chief of the Shuttle Repair and Construction Team, were standing under the sign in the shuttlebay that announced, "You Blitz 'Em, We Fix 'Em." Lt. Carey arrived as Chakotay and his team exited the small craft.

"Welcome back. What is Tantrum doing today?"

The commander nodded to Megan Delaney, having her make the report, as had been decided on the trip back. "The nebula was the calmest that its been since right after we arrived in the system. The flares seem to have stopped, but the nebula has not died down quite enough to try to go in yet. As long as conditions continue their current trend, it might be possible in a day, maybe two, Captain."

"Are the ship's repairs completed enough for us to go tomorrow, if conditions permit, Lt. Carey?"

"We could probably go in today if we had to Captain. There are only a few things that we still need to work on, and they aren't in critical systems."

"Let's let everyone know we plan on going in the day after tomorrow, then, commander. If we are able to go tomorrow, it would be even better, but I'd rather surprise the crew by going a day early if we can, instead of disappointing everyone if we have to put it off again."

"I agree, Captain. The crew needs to feel we have firm plans to pick up Torres and Paris. Hopefully, there won't be any further delays." Chakotay turned back to the away team and the shuttlebay repair crew. "By the way, people, this is confidential information! I know how the gossip mill works, and I will have a very short list of who might have talked if the word gets around." The younger crew members smiled uneasily at each other. The commander must have been reading their minds.

"Good work, everyone." The captain started to leave with Chakotay but thought of something else she wanted to say. "Oh, and by the way, Crewman Delaney . . . "

"Yes, Captain?" Megan responded. She was surprised that the captain was speaking to her.

"I want to commend you for the name you gave that star system. It certainly was appropriate."

"Thank you, Captain Janeway." The red haired crewman's face flushed to a shade close to that of her hair in pleasure.

"Carry on." Kathryn Janeway strode out after her first officer, a half-smile of pleasure on her own face. She had a good crew, and having an opportunity to give praise was one of the best parts of her job.

* * *

The commander walked with the captain out to the turbolift. When they were inside, away from the rest of the crew, Janeway asked him, "What are our chances of getting to Tom and B'Elanna tomorrow, Chakotay? Our real chances."

"I think it will be okay to try tomorrow, as long as we cut out of warp before we actually get into the system. Our people in Stellar Cartography think that we just had bad luck in going into the system when we did. There seems to be some kind of periodicy to the solar flares, but we aren't sure the warp drive didn't have an effect. Better safe than sorry, even if it takes a few hours longer. If we use caution and travel on impulse once we are in the system itself, I don't think that it will disrupt the nebula so much that we can't get them and ourselves out."

"I hope so, Commander." The captain smiled crookedly. "I need to get Mr. Paris working on my holodeck program again. I'm getting a little impatient to meet with Signor Da Vinci."

"The engines seem to miss B'Elanna, too."

The captain sighed. "The engines aren't the only ones."

* * *

B'Elanna checked Tom's clothes. They were still distressingly damp. Looking again at the gathering clouds, she tried to decide whether to take her chances and leave them out any longer, or if she should grab them and bring them in before the weather turned as wet and nasty as it appeared it would before long. Primitive housekeeping was getting to be a headache.

A tall figure with boots on his feet and clothed in Neelix's blanket, but not much else, appeared up the path they had worn from the cave to the cliff. "Are my clothes dry yet, Be'? It's starting to get cold in the cave."

"No, they're still pretty wet. I told you we should have washed up before we went up to the top end of the valley."

"Then we would have gotten rained on before we got back, and both of us would have been wet and cold instead of only one of us." Tom bent over his clothes to check them himself. He didn't find them any dryer than she had.

"What do you think, shall I use the phaser? If I put it on low power, wide dispersal, I may be able to get them dry. I'd just have to be careful not to leave the beam on too long."

"And what if you vape them? That would be nice. Then I would have to find out if a straw skirt would be adequate clothing for me in this climate. No, thank you, Lt. Torres. I would rather take my chances on the air drying them, even if I have to wait until tomorrow to get dressed again."

"We could bring them inside the cave and leave them near the fire. You could cuddle up next to them and to the fire to stay warm."

"Better than risking losing them forever, I guess. I think I would rather stay in our den and stay warm another way. Care to join me?"

"We'd better bring the clothes in first." Looking at the sky, he had to concur. A darker cloud that was shedding what appeared to be a heavy rain was coming straight for them. Between the two of them they managed to gather up Tom's wardrobe, but they still had to run the last few meters to the cave with the rain pounding down around and on top of them.

"Your clothes look like they need to get dry, too, Be'," he joked. The pouring rain had not soaked the winter jacket she had put on to go outside, but it was almost as damp as Tom's laundry was. Tom built the fire up while B'Elanna scattered his clothes on rocks and over their door hanging.

Tom was sitting on a rock near the fireplace with the blanket around him, picking away at his hair. "Whatever are you doing, Tom? You're making your hair look worse with all of that fussing."

"This soap makes it stick out all over."

B'Elanna sat down next to him. "Let me do that for you."

After a few moments of silence, he asked, "Well, can you do anything with it?"

"Why are you worried so much about your hair, Tom?"

"I have such a high forehead."

She laughed. "For such a student of all things Klingon, you should be glad. You have a very distinguished Klingon hairline. With your red beard, it's very attractive."

"Reddish-gold beard, Lieutenant."

"Reddish-gold. I stand corrected, Mr. Paris. How could I have made such a mistake?" Actually, his forehead was very handsome. She kissed it. So smooth. She kissed his forehead again, then his cheeks, nose, and the lips in the middle of his rapidly-filling in reddish-gold beard. Moving downward, she kissed him some more on the matching fuzzy surface at the base of his neck, and below.

"Okay, Be', that's enough. What if a Voyager away team should beam down here right this minute, with me undressed like this and you kissing my chest like that? Everyone will presume we've been doing exactly what we have been doing during our sojourn at this lovely tourist stopover." He paused a moment, considering, "I wonder what the betting line is?"

"Betting line! It doesn't matter what the line is, as long as no one can confirm it! Let them think what they like. As long as we aren't actually doing anything when they get here, what can they prove? Besides, you know they won't beam down too casually after all that happened here before. They'll signal us through our badges and then beam the two of _us_ back on board."

After several minutes of steadily increasing romantic activity, Tom whispered into her ear, "I think it's time for one of our wash day adjournments, don't you think?"

"Mm, you're probably right. Get inside that den, Mr. Paris. I'll follow you in a minute."

As Tom crawled into bed, B'Elanna stripped off her outer jacket, which still bore the comm badge she had taken off her jumpsuit when the latter was being laundered. She spread her jacket outside of their crypt next to Tom's, which had his comm badge on it. B'Elanna called in to him, "Are you ready for some company?"

"Right now would not be soon enough, Lieutenant."

A knowing smile on her face, Lt. Torres climbed into their den to enjoy herself with Lt. Paris.

* * *

"Any response to our signals, Mr. Tuvok?"

"No Captain. There is no reply to our hail. The nebula might be affecting the planet's atmosphere, however. It has some volatile properties that have masked our signals previously."

A few minutes later, Voyager assumed orbit over Tantrum IV, and Tuvok offered, "There are still no replies to our hails, Captain."

"Scan the surface, Mr. Kim."

"Captain, there seem to be two life signs in a cave, lying in what appears to be some kind of vegetative matter."

The captain turned to her first officer. "What do you think, Commander?"

"With the rigorous climate, they might be unconscious from the cold. It is daytime where they are."

"Let's not take any more chances at not getting them back. Mr. Kim, can we transport them out of there?"

"We should be able to, Captain."

"Then transport that entire pile of 'vegetative matter' and the lifesigns that go with it directly to Sickbay. I'm going to go down to check on Lt. Torres and Mr. Paris. Commander Chakotay, you have the conn."

* * *

When Captain Janeway reached Sickbay, she was greeted by the sight of a half-naked Tom Paris sitting on a biobed, wrapped in a Starfleet issue sleeping bag/blanket, receiving some kind of treatment from the Doctor. To get to her helmsman, the captain had to step around a large pile of what appeared to be hay, which was strewn with blankets, a wrist light, and various articles of clothing, primarily of the underwear type. She was relieved that he looked only a little the worse for wear. Her other missing officer was nowhere in evidence, however.

"Where's Lt. Torres?"

"After breaking Mr. Paris' collarbone, she pulled on her clothing and stormed out of Sickbay, Captain. Kes tried to stop her so that I could examine her for injury or illness, but she was extremely hostile."

One look at the faces of Tom and Kes revealed that there was a lot more to this story she needed to know, and not a very happy story, she thought.

"Why did she attack you, Tom?"

"The two lieutenants arrived_ flagrante delicto_, Captain," answered the Doctor for his patient.

"That is not what happened!" Tom cried out, but then he added gloomily, "Not quite, anyway. Close enough, I guess. We were asleep, wrapped in each other's arms, and from the way we weren't dressed, it wasn't too hard to figure out what we had just been doing. When we woke up, B'Elanna got so upset she punched me. It was a reflex, Captain; she didn't mean to break my bones or anything."

"I'm sorry, Tom."

"We had expected you to hail us first, when you came back for us."

"We've been trying to raise you for some time. Where are your comm badges?"

"I don't know, oh, wait a minute. We put them on our cold weather jackets when we were washing our clothes. My clothes were still wet, and I was cold. That's why we were inside the den, in bed . . . well, anyway. I guess the jackets were outside, and we couldn't hear your hails." Tom sighed and shook his head sadly. "Your timing could've been worse, but not by much."

The captain addressed the Doctor and Kes. "This is to remain just between us, a strictly confidential matter, is that understood?"

The Doctor answered her with confidence, "Of course, Captain. That's what I already told everyone."

At Kes' dismayed look, Captain Janeway realized that she had not yet gotten the entire story.

"Everyone?"

Kes responded. "Captain, several of the crew had been in Sickbay being treated for injuries from a holodeck accident. They had been playing hoverball with the safeties off, and there had been a collision. They were just leaving when Tom and B'Elanna were beamed in."

"Dalby, Henley, Chell, and Golwat. Some of the biggest gossips aboard ship. The story will be all over Voyager in an hour, if it isn't already." Tom's bitterness was painful to hear.

The captain went over to Tom and patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tom. I think you're probably right about that." She shook her head. "Well, Lieutenant, I will need a full report about your stay on Tantrum, but it goes without saying that you may eliminate anything . . . personal. What you've already told me is complete enough."

"Tantrum, Captain?"

"We named the star that, Tom. Your report should be about your stay on the planet Tantrum IV.'"

"The name fits too well, Captain." His voice was expressionless, as if he were still in shock at what had happened.

"Well, we're finished here with the clavicle repair, Lieutenant, and I think we've healed all of the bite marks, too. Let us know if we missed any. Kes, will you please contact Lt. Torres and have her come back to Sickbay. I still need to do her medical scan."

Tom looked from the Doctor to the captain. "Can't I go to her and do that for you, Doc? I need to talk to her anyway, and I am a field medic. We didn't have it too bad down there, Captain; I'm sure that there isn't anything so serious that I can't handle the scan myself."

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. "I would prefer that she come in here, but if you insist, Captain . . . "

"I do, Doctor."

"Well, then. Kes, if you will replicate the Lieutenant some clothing, he can take care of that medical scan for me."

The Captain was extremely concerned about Tom's state of mind as she watched the dull way he accepted one of the larger medical tricorders used in Sickbay from the Doctor. By the look on Kes' face as she handed Tom the uniform that she had already replicated for him, the Captain could see that she was just as worried about him.

As Tom stood up, the sleeping bag still wrapped around him, he said, "By the way, Captain. There's a lot of those roots and some other things in that cave. One afternoon B'Elanna and I combed through the talus from where we mined the dilithium out of the cliff and found some good-sized chips of dilithium that we had missed. We added them to the bag of dilithium crystals that was left behind when Neelix and Larson were transported up to Voyager. You might want to beam that up. There are some leaves that Kes might want to plant in the hydroponics bay, too. They made a pretty good drink."

"Of course, Tom," she said kindly. "Is there anything else you would want from down there?"

"No, Captain. Everything I want is up here now."

Kes put out her hand and grabbed one of his. Tom returned a feeble smile to her before going behind a screen to dress.

"Well, then, is someone going to clean up that mess over there? It's extremely unsanitary to have all that dried vegetation in here," complained the EMH.

"I'll send someone in, Doctor." The captain looked at the bed of straw as she left Sickbay. 'What tales that hay could tell,' she thought sadly.

* * *

B'Elanna stalked out of her bathroom, dressed in a terry robe and worrying her hair with a terrycloth towel. Try as she might, she could not remove the sensation of being dirty. Her humiliation was complete. Chell, Dalby, Henley, Golwat. Old gossips, the lot of them. She would never be able to show herself outside of her quarters again without someone sniggering behind her back.

"Go away," she yelled out to whoever was already at the door of her quarters, no doubt to gloat and/or to pry.

"It's me, Tom. The Doctor sent me to . . . ."

"I don't want to talk to you, Paris. Ever again."

"B'Elanna, it's going to be even worse for us if someone comes by now with me outside your door. Please let me in, B'Elanna, we need to talk."

She did not want to talk to him, but he was right. Having him hover outside of her door all day would leave them open to even more rumors if anyone saw him. "Enter."

He walked in haltingly. From the strand of straw sticking in his hair behind his ear and the beard still on his face, she could tell he had not gone back to his own quarters yet. He was the one person who could come into her quarters now who would not be prying or gloating about what had happened; and they did have to talk.

"I'm sorry I hit you. Did I do any damage?"

"Just a broken clavicle. The Doctor fixed me up. He said that if it was our wedding night, it would even be good luck." His attempt at humor must have sounded weak even to him, as he was having a difficult trying to smile.

"I am sorry, Tom. I just got so angry at all of them looking at us like that, the way we were . . . undressed, like that." She closed her eyes. "You know what they are going to be saying to everyone. By the time they're finished, everyone will have heard we were having sex in the middle of Sickbay!"

"B'Elanna, we knew that they were assuming that we were doing . . . what we were doing. It'll blow over. Everything does, eventually."

"I don't care that they were assuming that we were sleeping together! As long as they couldn't prove it, we could ignore the whole thing! I can't stand the idea of being the jokes of Voyager, can you?"

"So, I have the solution. Marry me. No one is very interested in the sex lives of married people, only the participants. It's expected - boring, even. The whole thing will die out in no time. And then the broken collarbone will be good luck for us."

"Don't be ridiculous, Paris. Us, married?"

"We seemed to get along pretty well down there on Tantrum IV, B'Elanna. That's, uh, what they called the planet."

"We were alone, Paris. There was hardly anything to fight about."

"If we could get along down there, doing what we had to in order to survive and supporting each other when our lives were at stake, I should think we would have a pretty good shot at being happy here on Voyager."

"Don't be absurd." She paced around her quarters, her anger building. "What are we going to say, Paris? They'll never let this go."

His mouth thinned to a grim line. "Oh, I'm sure you can think of something to tell them, Lieutenant. How about, 'It was a matter of survival, that's all. I'd do anything to survive, even sleep with Tom Paris.' Plenty of people will believe you," he said, bitterly.

Her temper flared. "Is that what you're going to say? I'd even sleep with Torres?"

"I don't plan on saying anything at all, B'Elanna. It isn't anyone's business but ours. And I guess, maybe Captain Janeway's and the Doctor's, but they already know what they need to know about it. I love you, B'Elanna. I said that down there on the planet, but I don't think you realize how much I meant it. The last thing I'm going to do is cheapen the best experience I ever had by telling jokes about it, especially since I'd be lying if I said it was anything but a fantasy come true." He looked down at the floor, as if to gather his courage, and said, "B'Elanna, I really do love you. Anything you want from me, I'll do. And I am asking you to marry me - not just because of Klingon custom, but because I really want to marry you."

Tom walked over to B'Elanna, hoping he could calm her down. Lifting his arms, he tried to put them around her, but B'Elanna was in a dangerous mood. She would not be comforted and slapped his hands away, yelling "Go away, Paris!"

Seeing it was a lost cause, Tom headed for the door, leaving the device he was carrying on her table as he passed it. "Fine, then, if that's the way you want it, I wouldn't dream of bothering you anymore. Here's the medical scanner, Lt. Torres. Either take the readings yourself, or go to Sickbay and have the Doctor do it, but one way or the other, it has to be done. The Doctor needs the information for his records."

When Tom reached the door, he hesitated as he was about to leave. Turning his body to look at her from over his shoulder, he said, wistfully, "And B'Elanna, if you ever change your mind about my . . . what I just said, you know how to find me."

Her back was to him. When she did not turn around, Tom faced reality and walked out the door.


	7. Repercussions

A few people reached out sympathetically to Tom and B'Elanna upon their return. Chakotay spoke with Torres, offering his services if she wished to commune with her spirit guide, assuming that she wasn't planning on trying to kill it again. He knew how badly she was feeling when she didn't laugh when he said it.

Captain Janeway went to dinner with Tom in the mess hall his first night back. There was lots of buzzing, but no open taunts during that meal.

Lt. Ayala, to B'Elanna's surprise, came to her and informed her that if anyone bothered her about what had happened, she was to come to him and he would 'take care of it.' Although B'Elanna felt confident that she could 'take care of it' herself, she thanked him anyway. The former Maquis also confronted Tom; but since the helmsman refused to respond to Ayala's pumping him for information, Ayala was satisfied that Tom was not gloating about what had happened and had told him he would help him, too, if necessary.

Megan Delaney and Gerron Tem invited Tom to dinner in Meg's quarters, spending the entire evening without once asking him any questions about his experiences on the planet. He was very grateful.

And then, of course, there were Harry and Kes. One or the other, or both, visited Tom and B'Elanna as often as possible. Harry hung out with Tom virtually every moment that he was not with his fiancée, and Kes made it a point to keep B'Elanna company as much as she could.

* * *

Overall, however, to say that their return to Voyager was hellish for Lt. Torres and Lt. Paris would be to sugarcoat their experiences.

Walking into a room or turbolift, hurrying down a corridor, or going to the mess hall for a meal were all ordeals marked by whispers, stares, open laughter, and/or the behind-the-hand sniggering that B'Elanna had accurately predicted and hated with a passion. Remembering the times when she had indulged herself with a bit of gossip at someone's expense made her cringe now that she was the object of such talk.

Whenever possible, she kept her conversations to strictly business concerns, as any opening at all for casual conversation resulted in her being pumped for information. "What was it like down there?" "The nights were really cold, weren't they?" "Just how good is Tom Paris in bed, anyway?" The last was only asked if the questioner was well out of B'Elanna's reach, as her rage was easily unleashed. B'Elanna decided that there was no doubt the Maquis and Starfleet crews had merged together comfortably after three years in the Delta Quadrant, as she could detect no difference in the curiosity level or the enjoyment of her discomfiture between the members of the two crews.

B'Elanna would have thought it impossible, but Tom had it worse. Virtually everyone assumed that he had taken advantage of the situation to seduce B'Elanna Torres. Only his refusal to respond to the worst of the heckling kept him from becoming involved in several fights. The talk became coarser the more he tried to ignore the speaker. Tom had had plenty of experience with dealing with the nastiness that people were capable of, thanks to having had to live with his Caldik Prime experience for so many years. He had always used humor to blunt the worst of the provoking behavior, but even he was unprepared for exactly how personal the comments could get. Apparently the lure of a good laugh because of a good old fashioned sexual affair, especially one that had become public knowledge in a way that invited the most obnoxious jokes, beat even death and dishonor as a hot topic in a closed society.

The third night they were back, Tom had a particularly difficult time in Sandrine's. While playing pool with Harry as his partner against Megan and Gerron, a group of men hung around the periphery, needling Tom whenever he bent down to take a shot. "How was she, Paris?" "Klingon lust fun for you?" "Finally got a chance to take her, the way you didn't when Vorik stepped in that time, right, Lieutenant?"

The last was too much for Tom. Slamming his cuestick against the table, he yelled out, "You want to know what Torres and I did on the planet? Fine, I'll tell you." The room hushed expectantly. "We found some food. We found a cave for shelter. We built ourselves a nice, warm fire. We waited for you to come get us. And anything else is none of your damned business!"

The room erupted in hoots when Tom ran out of the door, his partners from the pool table at his heels. When they caught up with Tom, he was clearly shaken and upset but said mildly, "Thanks, I appreciate your worrying about me, but it's okay. I think I just need to hole up in my quarters for tonight. It's a lot quieter there, and I think that quiet is exactly what I want right now. And Megan, let me apologize about my language in there. It was uncalled for."

"Tom, they were trying to provoke you."

Tom smile was sad as he grabbed her hand, then Gerron's and Harry's hands in turn, before walking down the corridor to the turbolift.

When Captain Janeway heard about what had happened at Sandrine's, she took immediate action. A ship-wide announcement was made, stating that in any physical altercation between Lt. Torres or Lt. Paris and another person, the other person would be assumed to be the perpetrator and would be sent to the brig immediately. This blunted the most aggressive approaches but did not eliminate them entirely. Her stance also meant that the bridge became a refuge for both officers, since Janeway would not brook even a rude glance at either Tom or B'Elanna without a glare and a sharp word to the one who had been so bold.

In the end, however, Tom's and B'Elanna's ordeal was ended through the unexpected intervention of Harry and Kes, who provided the crew with another hot topic for discussion. They announced that they were getting married. Everyone was invited to their wedding reception in Sandrine's the next night. Harry asked Tom to be his Best Man. Kes pleaded with B'Elanna until she agreed to be her Maid of Honor.

* * *

"And by the authority invested in me as captain of this vessel, I now pronounce you, man and wife. You may kiss the bride. Harry, Kes, that's your cue." Captain Janeway happily said those words in front of the intimate group in her ready room; and the radiant bride and her exultant groom gladly complied with the captain's request.

From where Tom stood next to Harry, he could see a dark head on the other side of the newlyweds. The Maid of Honor was holding Kes' bouquet of white roses as the couple embraced. Tom and B'Elanna's eyes met for a brief second only before her eyes jumped away from his. He wondered if she even remembered his proposal to her a few days before, for if she did, there was no sign from the chief engineer.

"Harry, Kes, best wishes for love and happiness always." Tom said a moment later, giving each of them a quick hug before stepping back to let the others present take their turn. Captain Janeway, Chakotay, and Neelix congratulated them in a similar manner to Tom. Tuvok made the Vulcan sign of greeting for them, saying, "Peace, and long life," prompting the ritualized reply, "Live long, and prosper," from Harry and Kes in unison.

The Doctor pumped Harry's hand and planted a kiss on Kes' cheek. In the end, he had been assigned the role of father of the bride, with Neelix, more or less graciously, ceding the place to him and assuming instead the "big brother" role he had said he had wished to claim. A few others from the bridge crew were also there, including Ayala, Lang, and Grimes, but Kes had not wanted to be overwhelmed at the ceremony. She had confessed to B'Elanna that the reception would be bad enough.

The last to greet the newly married couple was B'Elanna. "Well, Starfleet, now you've gone and done it," she said, smiling at Harry. They embraced warmly. "And Kes, be happy."

Kes' face shone as the two women hugged. "B'Elanna, thank you for your help in making this day the best day of my life."

"So far," said B'Elanna in reply. Everyone present laughed. Even Tom was able to manage a sad chuckle.

"Well, everyone, the crowd in Sandrine's must be very impatient for the arrival of the happy couple. Are we ready to satisfy them?" said the captain. She took Chakotay's arm to lead everyone out to the turbolift. Tom was nearest the windows that looked out upon the starfield and farthest from the door, but he quickly realized that he was not going to be the last one to leave. There was one person from the bridal party who was hanging back from the doorway.

"B'Elanna? Aren't you coming?"

"Go on ahead, Tom."

He wasn't sure what to say. He doubted that the captain expected anyone to be staying on alone in her private sanctum after the ceremony was over, and he wasn't sure what her response would be if she knew about it. On the other hand, confronting Lt. Torres with this kind of information was likely to result in a major explosion, especially now, so he said only, "I'll wait for you by the turbolift."

"Thanks, Tom, but our coming into Sandrine's together isn't the best idea I've ever heard. There's been enough attention on us already."

Tom looked at her, trying to gauge her mood. She needed to be alone. Nodding in her direction, he left the ready room.

B'Elanna walked up to the couch beneath the windows, sitting on it sideways to enable her to see the stars as she lounged there. She knew very well that the captain might be upset with her for staying in her ready room after everyone was gone, but B'Elanna had to think. She had avoided a close examination of what had happened between Tom and herself, but from the information that had come to her about what had occurred to the helmsman during the past few days, she knew she must. She had a decision to make, and it was only fair that she make it now. Going to Sandrine's afterwards was something that she dreaded doing, even though she knew she would be forced to go.

B'Elanna was still holding Kes' bouquet.

* * *

The party was in full swing when B'Elanna finally walked into Sandrine's. She was grateful that the commotion hid her entrance from most of the guests. She greeted several of her subordinates from Engineering and said hello to a few of the former Maquis with whom she had served on Chakotay's ship before walking up to the bar, where Captain Janeway and Chakotay were flanking the bride and groom.

"B'Elanna! We were just wondering where you were. Join the party. Everyone is having a blast. Neelix has really outdone himself today," said Harry, his voice pitched higher than usual in his excitement.

"Well, here I am, Starfleet; and here's your bouquet, Kes. I forgot to give it back to you."

Kes accepted the flowers while studying B'Elanna's face intently. Her concern was evident. "Are you all right, B'Elanna? I was getting worried when I didn't see you."

"I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me." The half-Klingon woman paused, her eyes searching the room. " Kes, you don't happen to know where the Best Man disappeared to, do you?"

"He's over in the far corner booth, B'Elanna, with Gerron and Megan. Why don't you join them?"

B'Elanna's reply was soft and hard to hear against the exultant commotion of the reception. "I intend to, Kes."

With quick nods to the captain and first officer, and after taking a very obvious, very deep breath, B'Elanna started walking toward the far corner of the room. As she dodged around the guests, attention was drawn to her, particularly after it became obvious where she was headed. She was only a few meters from the booth when the one she had come to see raised his head and saw her approach.

"B'Elanna, here, take this seat. I can find another."

"That's okay, Tom. I would rather have you stay. I was hoping to talk with you."

"Megan, would you like to dance?" asked Gerron.

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to asking me to do that!" Winking as she stood up, Megan said, "We'll see you two on the dance floor!" As the couple went to the dance floor, they intercepted Jenny Delaney, who was about to return to the booth with some hors d'oeurves. "Not now, Jenny, leave them alone!" Megan said in a stage whisper to her bewildered sister.

* * *

"Nice wedding, don't you think?" Tom offered, taking the side of the booth that Meg and Gerron had vacated.

"Yes, very nice. They seem happy. I can still hardly believe it, though. Did you have any idea before we were . . . we left the ship for that mission that they were even interested in each other?"

Tom thought a moment. "Yes and no. Kes always has fussed a little over Harry, and whenever the four of us got together, he seemed really happy. I guess in the back of my mind I thought they liked each other more than a little, but to be engaged in a week, and married in less than two weeks, no, that _WAS_ a surprise."

"Neelix seems to be taking it well."

"I think Neelix is relieved that Harry is going to be doing the honors for Kes' Elogium. He wasn't looking forward to . . . " Tom's voice died out when he realized the subject to which they had somehow drifted.

She didn't get upset. "I think you're right. Harry will be much more enthusiastic about being a father."

They shared a relieved expression at getting past the shoals of that remark. "In fact," she went on, "when you consider how compressed Kes' life span is, I guess it makes sense for them to have gotten married as soon as they realized that they wanted to. They aren't going to have that long together under the best of circumstances. Five or six years, that's all they'll have."

Tom nodded, his mood more sober. "Yes, sometimes people don't get as much time together with someone they love as they'd like."

B'Elanna braved a direct look at him then, searching his face. The sincere Paris. The one that she had been hoping would be in residence tonight. "Yes, Tom. Not enough time at all." She looked down at the table to strengthen her resolve, then turned back to him. "I've wanted to talk to you about that." She gulped, then went on. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about the way I ripped into you when you came to see me in my quarters."

"I'm just sorry the whole thing happened the way it did, Be', the way we came back here, the whole thing. I didn't want it to be that way," he replied.

"I know that, Tom. We both wanted it to be different. I know we can't just do it all over again, like kids do when they are playing some game and want to wipe away what happened. It won't wipe away. But maybe, I hope, we can be friends again, like we were before, and just go on from there. Do you think that it would be possible for the two of us to do that?"

He thought he knew what she was saying. Back to the turbolift after the "_pon farr_ thing." Right about now, that would be okay with him, as long as he could still be careful what to wish for, too. "Absolutely, B'Elanna. Back to before." He held out his hand, and she grasped it in her right hand quickly before bringing her hand back to its mate directly in front of her.

They sat for several seconds before both of them started to say something. They laughed, and then Tom insisted, "You first B'Elanna, since I'm always talking."

She smiled at him, and then said, "You know, Tom, after you left that tricorder with me, I decided I might as well get the Doctor off my back and used it on myself. Then I_ stared_ at the thing for about an hour before finally being able to show my face out my door to bring it to sickbay. When I got there, the Doctor insisted on doing his own scans anyway - as if I didn't know how to use a tricorder!" Her eyes flashed sharply in indignation at the memory.

Carefully keeping his face neutral to avoid being accused of being provocative, Tom remarked, "I'm sure he just wanted to make sure you were really okay. So, any adverse reactions from staying with me in that cavern, Lieutenant?"

"I believe his terminology was something like, 'No serious repercussions, Lt. Torres, you may return to your regular activities."

"That sounds like our Doctor, all right," he laughed.

"Tom - "

"Yes?" He looked expectantly into her eyes, which had lost the hint of a sharp edge that they had had and were the shade of the richest dark chocolate.

"There is one thing more I have to say to you." She cleared her throat. "I don't think I've been fair to you." She averted her eyes and started to fondle the edge of a napkin that was sitting on the table in front of her, picking at a loose thread in the hem.

"In what way, B'Elanna?"

"When you came in with the tricorder and said you weren't going to say anything to anybody about...what we did..." She met his gaze directly, "I thought, sure, Helmboy is really going to be able to keep his mouth shut. I knew that you wouldn't be gloating, exactly, but I didn't see how you could not talk about it. But everyone I ask, Ayala, Gerron, even Harry, says that you _HAVE_ refused to talk about it. And that thing that happened that made the captain give that order, after you blew up and left Sandrine's the other night when the jokes got too..."

"Too coarse," he supplied for her.

"Yes, that's it, I guess. Well, anyway, I've been doing a lot of thinking about the last few days. I'm always underestimating you, aren't I, Tom?" She had to look away again in embarrassment.

"If you mean you expected me to treat you like some kind of conquest, then yes, you did underestimate me. B'Elanna, I meant it when I told you that being with you on Tantrum was the best time I ever had in my life. I'd like those days to go on forever, but that's up to you. I've told you how I feel."

She looked back at him, at his vulnerable face. All of his masks, the little tricks that he used to hide his soul away from potential hurt were absent; she could see that he was being completely open with her, perfectly sincere. "I want to believe you, Tom. I guess I know you really mean it _now_. I just don't think that anyone can ever promise forever."

"I can, and I am. If you want me."

She hesitated, mulling over everything that she had learned about this man in the past three years and especially, in the last few days. A voice in her head whispered, 'you can never trust anyone but yourself, _be'Hom_. Anyone can tell you what you want to hear and then betray you, can leave you alone, whenever he wants.' Her memory stirred, and B'Elanna's conscience whispered back to her, 'And if you make someone a promise that you do not intend to keep, _YOU_ are the betrayer.'

Taking a deep breath as she took a plunge into the uncharted depths of possibility, B'Elanna stretched out her arms and took Tom's long, beautiful hands into her own firm grasp. "I can't promise you forever, Tom. Not now, at least, but on Tantrum IV I did make a promise to you that I haven't kept - the one about seeing whether or not we may have a future together. I have been trying to pretend that it all didn't happen, just as you said I would, and that's pretty silly. Something _DID_ happen. So, I guess I need to see that promise through. I think you called it exploring what we can be to one another. But no commitments, Tom, I want that understood..."

His beatific smile stunned her into silence as he gripped her hands back tightly. "I understand, B'Elanna. No commitments and no explanations needed. But I'd like to know if Voyager's chief engineer would mind being kissed in public right now by the chief helmsman?"

"I don't think I'm ready for that public a display yet, Tom. Not after all that's happened." She looked around Sandrine's, crowded with their crew mates. Nodding her head towards the dance floor, she added, "However, there's a nice song playing, and the chief engineer wouldn't mind having the chief helmsman hold her close while they were dancing."

Jumping to his feet, the chief helmsman bowed to the chief engineer as she arose from her seat and walked over with him, hand in hand, to the open area where several couples were already dancing. The captain poked the commander to attract his attention to what was happening, and a hush fell over the conversations of everyone in the room. All of the other dancing couples parted, as if choreographed, to allow Tom and B'Elanna access to the center of the floor, next to where the bride and groom were dancing. Kes smiled delightedly when she saw them approach, gesturing to Harry so that he would see his friends together, too. Bowing first to Harry and Kes, then to Megan and Gerron, who were beaming as they saw them come onto the floor together, Tom took B'Elanna into his arms. They took the closest of dance positions, their arms wrapped around each other, her cheek leaning against his chest and over his heart, his chin resting upon the top of her head. They began to move slowly to the music, now oblivious to anyone else who was on the floor with them.

"Think there will be any serious repercussions from dancing with me in public, Lt. Torres?"

She murmured into his shoulder, "I'm counting on it, Mr. Paris."

* * *

B'Elanna and Tom were quite accurate in their assumption that there would be repercussions from their dancing together in Sandrine's. The wedding of Harry and Kes was again only one of several topics to be discussed. The nature of the relationship between B'Elanna Torres and Thomas Eugene Paris became a major subject of inquiry.

The gossip mill aboard Voyager ground through person to person. The initial report was that at the conclusion of Mr. and Mrs. Kim's wedding, Mr. Paris went to Lt. Torres' quarters and spent the night there. The speculation about what went on that evening between Lt. Torres and Mr. Paris was, for once, remarkably close to the events that actually took place.

Repercussions of quite another sort were to occur also, but these had nothing to do with anything that had happened at the wedding reception held in Sandrine's that evening.

The Emergency Medical Hologram took great pride in the skills he had developed since his activation as a diagnostician, surgeon, and general medical practitioner, and justifiably so. Much as he (or his personality matrix sub-routines, to be more precise) would like to think he was infallible, however, in point of fact, he was not. A profound change in the status of two people was to take place due to the fact that the good Doctor's pronouncement to B'Elanna Torres several days earlier that she would experience no serious repercussions from her stay with Mr. Paris on Tantrum IV was, in fact, an inaccurate one.

It was true that as of the moment the EMH examined her with his advanced medical instrumentation, B'Elanna Torres had no medical condition of any note to be reported. It would be an extremely rare and, in some eyes, overcautious doctor who would do additional scans on Lt. Torres' ovaries to see if ovulation was imminent, based simply upon the fact that her birth canal and uterus contained a significant volume of semen consequent to certain activities that had taken place earlier that day. None of the doctors that comprised the database for the Doctor's matrix had ever been that cautious. Due to subsequent events, however, Voyager's EMH would make a note to include such a scan in the future whenever such a finding was made, along with an additional scan to determine the viability of the sperm found within the semen.

Within an hour after Lt. Torres left sickbay, an egg erupted from a follicle in her left ovary to begin its journey to its fate: either a short trip and eventual oblivion in a flood of menstrual blood, or a glorious future secured by the contribution of half the DNA essential for the creation of a new sentient being. At the same time, a host of eager sperm, swimming up the lovely lieutenant's Fallopian tubes with as much vigor and enthusiasm for their task as their progenitor had displayed in placing them in a position to do so, were following their own destiny to oblivion or glory.

At a later date, the two lieutenants who were most intimately involved with this occurrence would rue the fact that, contrary to her usual practice of refusing to submit to any requests by the Doctor for an examination without first dragging her feet and arguing about its necessity for several days, upon this occasion Lt. Torres had complied immediately, before there was a new life to detect.


	8. Separation

**SEPARATION**

"I'll be in my ready room."

'How many times have we heard that in the last three weeks,' thought Tom. Glancing over his shoulder toward the ready room door, he saw the first officer bob his head as the captain walked off the bridge. For all the warmth between them, they might have been strangers who, after encountering each other's faces daily for a long time because they took the same route to their places of employment, had progressed to an occasional acknowledgment of the other's presence as they passed each other. On a starship that was literally lost in space on the other side of the galaxy from home, with every member of the crew depending upon every other one, this was Not Good.

The captain did not spend a lot of time on the bridge these days. Much of her time was spent with another project that was a byproduct of Voyager's meeting with the Borg and the virulent new species 8472, encounters which had shaken the composure of everyone on board. Harry Kim had barely survived them. He was now recovered and at his customary place on the bridge, but the relationship between Captain Kathryn Janeway and Lieutenant Commander Chakotay, the former Maquis rebel whom Janeway had named as first officer, had not recovered. Although their split over the way to deal with the crisis may have been predictable to those who knew their backgrounds, predictability, in this instance, did not translate into any feelings of comfort for the crew.

Since being thrust into the Delta Quadrant, Captain Janeway's position as the only Starfleet Captain in 70,000 or so light years had transformed her into a throwback to the captains of the early days of the Federation. When the Alpha Quadrant was largely unexplored and huge chunks of time were needed to get anywhere within the quadrant due to slower warp drives, a captain had to make decisions quickly and learned to live with them. There wasn't any other choice.

Thanks to the Caretaker's dragging Voyager out of all contact with Federation space, Janeway, like Pike, Kirk and their ilk, was on her own. She relied on her crew, but even more, upon herself, to get out of tight scrapes. Sometimes, as Tom realized had happened with the Voth, they got out of said scrapes only because of an act of benevolence by the alien species. At other times, as with the Nyrians, they did it on their own. Kathryn Janeway had learned to take chances, and so far, only a handful of the crew had had to pay the ultimate price.

As a Maquis, Commander Chakotay had been on his own far too often during one-sided battles against the Cardassians. Although he had been with the commander only briefly in the Maquis, Tom had been with him long enough to appreciate Chakotay's ability to lead his people against incredible odds. Often, his Maquis had lived to fight another day simply by knowing when to slip out of harm's way, to hide out, lick their wounds, and get ready for next time. Plowing through without regard for the consequences was risky and could end any hope for victory. Everyone might end up dead. Chakotay had learned to pick his spots and to fight only when he could do sufficient damage to the enemy to justify the risk to his people.

As she had promised to her doomed exact duplicate, Janeway would get her crew home again safely, as soon as she could. If that meant having to deal with the Devil, in the form of the Borg, so be it. Her Starfleet crew wanted and deserved to get home.

Only a few months previously, Chakotay had been manipulated by a group of former Borg into helping them so that the few in their "Cooperative" could have their way over thousands, without the thousands having anything to say about it. He had been shown that the face of the Devil could be beautiful, and fair haired, and seemingly compassionate. Trusting the Borg could mean the enslavement of the galaxy-not so far from the fate that the Maquis and Tom Paris could expect when they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Imprisonment was their most likely welcome home.

Faced with a choice that was no choice at all, to slug it out against the Borg or be annihilated by 8472, Chakotay had said: let's look for a place to hide out a while, and then look for another way home. Janeway had said, let's negotiate with the Borg and go straight through them. The immediate situation had been resolved and Voyager had survived with a souvenir of the adventure: Seven-of-Nine, a Borg isolated from the Collective and now living on Voyager under the captain's watchful eye.

Janeway and Chakotay had gone back to being captain and first officer, but the private relationship that had been the subject of so much ship's gossip had suffered from their disagreement. Exactly what form that relationship had ever taken was a matter of rampant speculation amongst the crew, but no matter what it had been like before, it was clearly suffering from their recent disagreement. The warm touches and intimate looks that they had shared with each other on the bridge - and who knew where else - were gone.

From the vantage point of being a Starfleet brat who had served with the Maquis, Tom's view was that, depending upon which aspects of the problem were being examined, both had been right, and both had been wrong. They had all been lucky to survive. Unfortunately, neither the captain nor the commander would admit it.

Tom was glad when his shift ended. Constant vigilance was necessary; the Delta Quadrant had shown that it was not finished with throwing bullies of all sorts at Voyager, yet the tension level on the bridge had remained far beyond what was necessary for the entire day. Let Beta shift deal with it now.

Looking over to the Engineering console, Tom checked to see if B'Elanna was going to be able to leave when he did. She didn't look ready yet. Tom took a few extra minutes with his replacement during the change of shift, stalling so that he could leave with B'Elanna. Eventually he had to give over the conn to Grimes.

"Going home anytime before midnight, Lieutenant?" he asked her as he stopped by her console on his way off the bridge.

"Hopefully. I'm still trying to upgrade the long range sensors to give us more warning of anyone else who might be hostile to us. You go on ahead with Harry and meet Kes for dinner. I'll just grab something later, when I'm free."

Tom looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention to them. He did not want to incite her into a scene on the bridge if he could help it. If he kept his voice barely above a whisper and in a casual tone, perhaps he could avoid an outburst. "B'Elanna, don't you think you could take one night off, at least, and give yourself a chance to relax a little? You've been working as if you were the only one who can repair the ship or upgrade the systems. Just one night of rest - it might help you get over that fatigue you've been feeling every night."

Her glare was a good imitation of Janeway's. Whispering hadn't been quite enough after all. Fortunately, the cavalry was coming.

"Lt. Nicoletti, good evening to you," Tom turned and smiled graciously at the young engineer stepping out of the turbolift at the back of the bridge.

"I'm glad you're here, Nicoletti. I want you to run a third level diagnostic on the sensor arrays. If you need anything, I'll be down in Engineering."

"Lieutenant Torres, may I accompany you to the turbolift, at least?" Tom said, giving in to the inevitable. She shrugged her shoulders before turning back to her subordinate, who was already seated at the Engineering console. Tom walked up to the turbolift and waited for a few minutes until B'Elanna had finished briefing Nicoletti on the long list of tasks awaiting her during Beta shift.

"Hey guys, wait up," said Harry as the two lieutenants entered the turbolift. Tom gave Harry his own version of The Look, although it could not come close to matching Janeway's or B'Elanna's. With Harry along, Tom wasn't even going to be able to get more that a peck on the cheek from B'Elanna on the lift.

* * *

The dinner hour rush had long since come and gone. Kes had been called back to Sickbay to help the Doctor with some tests he was running. Tom and Harry were still sitting in the corner of the mess hall, nursing mugs of replicated coffee and waiting for the still-absent B'Elanna. Several calls had been made to Engineering, a few times by Tom and a couple of times by Harry, gingerly asking the chief engineer if she were coming to eat soon. Each time, the answer had been a variation of "Soon, but not yet."

"I don't get it, Harry. She almost seems like she's trying to avoid me sometimes. And testy - it's like approaching a mountain lioness. I'm not sure what the Klingon equivalent is, but I'm sure there is one - sleek, lethal, always ready to pounce." Tom looked dejectedly at his half-filled mug of cold ersatz coffee. "I knew it was too soon for us to become intimate when we did, but what else could I do? She wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her. And it was so damned cold, Harry!"

"It's difficult for her, Tom. I don't think she's had a lot of people that she's been able to trust before us. She'll come around. Just be careful you don't..." Harry paused, not being sure how he could put what he knew he should say diplomatically.

"Be careful about what? Loving her too much? It's already too late for that, my friend. Much too late."

"Just don't crowd her, Tom. She's used to being completely on her own. B'Elanna's proud of her self-reliance, of being in control. She likes to be outspoken and speaks her own mind. I think she could be afraid of losing herself in you. Libby and I had some dancing around to do when we first got together about that, and I still need to remind myself to be careful around Kes. She's so much stronger than she appears that I get a little overprotective sometimes. It takes time to work out all the little things, Tom. The big things always seem to take care of themselves."

"I hope so, Harry. I'm really trying not to push her, you know that."

"I know, Tom, but you know how B'Elanna is. Sometimes she sees a push when there isn't one there." Harry was not sure Tom didn't have good cause to look as worried as he did. Harry had noticed a change in B'Elanna over the past week or so, too, a pulling back from the relationship she had been building with Tom since their return from Tantrum IV. It was not so much that she was taking her job so seriously - that had always been a given - but B'Elanna seemed to be using it to erect a barrier of work between Tom and herself. Meals were eaten on the run, in Engineering most of the time, and Harry knew that she claimed never to have time for anything other than work and sleep.

He would have been even more concerned had he known what Tom had chosen not to confide to Harry, despite their close friendship. More often than not, B'Elanna was now sleeping alone, too.

* * *

"Torres to Chakotay."

_:::Yes, B'Elanna, what can I do for you?:::_

"I have those reports for you on the sensor array modifications. Do you want me to bring them to you tonight?"

_:::Hold them until tomorrow. I'll review them before the staff meeting.:::_

B'Elanna hesitated before replying to him. She wanted to talk to someone about Tom, and the reports were merely an excuse to approach Chakotay. B'Elanna detected a weariness in his voice, however, that suggested Chakotay would not be as accepting of a visit from her tonight as she needed him to be, certainly not enough for her to bring up the subject of the pilot with him. Tom and Chakotay had had troubles of their own in the past, and B'Elanna did not know what reservations the first officer still might have about Paris. Now that Chakotay was having relationship problems with Janeway - Tom's mentor - seeking out Chakotay's advice about Tom might be asking too much of him. If bringing the reports meant handing Chakotay a padd and saying good evening, it would not be of much help to B'Elanna.

"Fine, Chakotay. I'll bring them to the bridge 15 minutes before the start of the staff meeting tomorrow morning. Torres out."

B'Elanna gathered up the report for Chakotay, as well as some padds to bring with her to her quarters. She planned another working evening, with little time for romance. As that thought occurred to her, a vision of Tom's face flashed in her mind. Not only his face, either - B'Elanna vividly remembered the look and feel of his long body, lying beside her in the dim cavern.

Standing up abruptly, she tried to shake off the image of the helmsman embracing her. Tom Paris was invading her mind more and more each day and each night, and increasingly, she could not keep him out of her thoughts. She was disturbed by the weak feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach when she was with him - sometimes even when she was not with him. Lately she was always on edge, and there were times B'Elanna even felt light headed.

This depending on another for her own feelings of well-being simply was not good for her. She had to do something about it, and soon.

Exiting her office with her armload of padds, B'Elanna heard raucous laughter coming from the area around the warp core. Three of her staff were standing by the core, apparently checking readings, but their laughter told a different story. Walking over to find out what was going on, B'Elanna noticed the laughter ceased as soon as she came into view. Several looks between her engineers were exchanged, along with a wink between Lt. Carey, who was commanding Engineering this shift, Ashmore and Henley.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" B'Elanna asked of Carey.

"Nothing at all, Lt. Torres. Everything is under control."

Looking around at her staff, B'Elanna felt that there was much more going on than she could tell, but to yell at them for laughing at something seemed petty. There had been little enough laughter around Voyager lately; she could hardly come down upon them for getting a little of their high spirits back.

"Anyone care to let me in on the joke?" she asked.

The three exchanged nervous glances between themselves, but no one spoke.

"Apparently not," said B'Elanna, a little too sharply. "Well, carry on."

She turned to go. As she arrived at the doorway leading out of Engineering, one of the padds slipped out of her hand. Stooping down to pick it up, B'Elanna could hear a voice say something that sounded like "hot date," "Tom," and "needs it" before the three voices erupted in hoots of laughter again. Flushing deeply, B'Elanna almost turned back to confront them but stopped herself. As she stalked to the turbolift, however, she could feel her temper dragging at the leash, begging to be let loose.

* * *

The wolf did not wish to be found. As he loped after her, trying to find her trail, he felt himself slipping away from the country that he had been traveling. A feeling of abandonment swept over him. His animal guide had never slipped away from Chakotay so completely before.

Opening his eyes, the commander surveyed his quarters without recognition. The familiar shapes were obscured, hidden, as if they were shrouded in a deep mist. Several minutes passed before his eyes regained their normal sight; and he could again see his desk, chairs, sofa, bed. Chakotay could not shake off the feeling that he had lost his way, here, in the middle of what had been the most familiar of settings for most of his life.

Wrapping up the contents of his medicine bundle and putting it back on its shelf, the commander turned to the door. If one ritual, that of his ancestors, was illusive, perhaps that of his Voyager family would not be. Sandrine's was running tonight. To Sandrine's he would go, to try to forget.

* * *

When Chakotay entered the holodeck program, Tom Paris and Harry Kim were at the pool table, dueling Dalby and Bristow for replicator credits, bragging rights, and pride. All but Paris waved at the commander as he stopped at the table to watch Tom line up his shot, a difficult, but possible bank shot around the eight ball. He missed it, hitting the eight ball instead. Tom and Harry groaned as Dalby and Bristow celebrated.

"Not your night, Paris?"

"Doesn't seem to be, Commander. Can I interest you in a game? I have to win back some replicator credits for Harry, here. I don't want to get him into any trouble with Kes." The smile was weak. Tom hadn't been looking too well lately. Chakotay wondered how things were going between Torres and him. They seemed like such an unlikely couple, but Torres had stopped confiding in him, and he did not feel comfortable asking Paris about it. Their relationship was not really his business, anyway. He had enough problems of his own in that regard.

Shaking his head, Chakotay walked over to the bar to order a drink and settled upon a seat in the corner, well away from the pool table and the couples that were dancing at the other end of the room. The room was full of crew; almost none of the holodeck characters were present. Only Sandrine, holding court at the bar and serving all comers, was there tonight.

Chakotay decided, from the looks of it, that he was not the only one feeling dispirited. Despite the crowd, the noise level was relatively low. Most people were sitting around talking, some earnestly, most lethargically. Some of them glanced over at the first officer upon occasion. He could guess that they were saying something about him and, probably, about the captain. As he sipped his synthale he sighed. This may not have been such a good idea after all.

* * *

B'Elanna Torres arrived at Sandrine's a few minutes past 2200 hours. The crowd was already thinning despite the early hour. Since the captain had not shown up and the commander had left after only a few minutes, the appeal of hanging around to gossip about them had not been enough to keep the clientele happy in the replicated Marseilles tavern. No fireworks display tonight.

Almost as soon as she entered the room, B'Elanna heard Tom call out to her. "B'Elanna, finally," as he rushed up and enveloped her in his arms.

"Please, Tom. I'm not in the mood."

"O-kay." Although he had stretched out the word, the helmsman stepped back with alacrity. "Kes and Harry are still here, although I think they're getting restless. They'll be wanting to go back to their quarters soon, I think. Why don't you go over where they're sitting and I can get you something to drink."

"I'll get it myself, Tom."

She looked drawn and tired. "Are you sure? I'd be glad to help get you something to drink or to eat - have you eaten yet?"

"Tom! I'll get it myself."

The pilot raised both hands and stepped back in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, I just wanted to give you a hand if you had a lot to carry."

"I won't."

"We're sitting over there, in the back corner." As he left her near the bar Tom shook his head. Testy, very testy. He knew she had a fear of being smothered, but since when was trying to be helpful smothering?

Tom looked back over his shoulder at her once he had taken his seat in the corner booth, across from Kes and Harry. They were so absorbed in one another that he had to clear his throat a few times to get their attention. Kes blushed as she turned towards Tom, but Harry just looked ridiculously happy. Tom was glad that someone was.

"I thought B'Elanna was here, Tom. Didn't I see her a minute ago?" inquired Kes.

"She's over by the bar." He looked back at B'Elanna again. She was leaning her entire weight on the bar. "Kes, don't you think she looks tired? She's been like that almost constantly for the last couple of weeks. I think B'Elanna's working much too hard. What do you think?"

Kes shrugged her shoulders. "There has been an awful lot to work on after all that's happened. I'm sure she's just being careful that everything is being done right." She glanced over at B'Elanna, who was carrying a tray with some kind of drink and a sandwich over to the table. "Here she comes, now."

Tom slid over to the inside of the booth to allow B'Elanna a place to sit. "Prune juice? Again?"

"What of it, Paris? I like prune juice."

Time to back off, thought Tom, noting that he had been demoted to "Paris."

"Nothing at all, Be'. Nothing's wrong at all." He did not even mention the sandwich she was tearing into hungrily, even though it was a clear indicator that once again, she had worked for at least 14 hours without having had any kind of meal. He knew for a fact that she had skipped lunch and bit back a comment linking her lack of stamina to not eating. Definitely too testy to bring up something like that tonight, even if it were true.

* * *

The friends sat and chatted, sipping their drinks while B'Elanna finished eating. B'Elanna had the least to say of any of them, but consuming her meal was not the reason. She was watching Kes and Harry. Kes was constantly worrying that Harry's stamina was still suspect after his poisoning by Species 8472 and his brush with death. The Doctor had used Borg nanites to cure him, but even B'Elanna noticed that Harry had yet to regain all of the weight he had lost while he was so ill. B'Elanna herself would loath being fussed over the way Kes was fussing over him, but Harry did not seem to mind being the object of so much attention from his loving wife.

With the example of Harry and Kes before her, beautiful to look at together, so obviously in love, and temperamentally well suited to one another, B'Elanna reconsidered her relationship with Tom for at least the hundredth time. People said that they looked good together, too, although she personally couldn't see it. He was tall, blond, and good-looking; she was short, dark, and striking looking, perhaps, but certainly not beautiful. The sex between them was good, but how long would that keep him?

Tom had a tendency to fuss over her, too. He was always trying to do things for her, pushing on her his ideas about what they should do together, how to spend their time, yet he always backed off when she refused to do something. Between this pushiness and then his caving in to what she wanted, she never knew what to expect from him. B'Elanna did not trust ambivalence, and that is what she sensed from Tom.

B'Elanna was beginning to see that she didn't act like herself around him. She was not fond of personal contact, but she found herself wanting Tom to touch her constantly. He was going to make her love him, tie her to him - she could feel it - and then what? Although she tried to shy away from it, her mother's voice haunted her mind, as much as she tried to push it away: _'He is a human, and he will tire of you. He will betray you. Leave, before you are left.'_

Lost in her thoughts, B'Elanna was disoriented a minute when Kes and Harry got up from their seats. "Going already?" B'Elanna asked.

"As a matter of fact, we are. We've only been talking about it for the last ten minutes!" laughed Harry. "We have an early staff meeting tomorrow, remember? I have a few things to go over before I hit the hay."

"Have a good time, Starfleet. Kes." B'Elanna's expression did not match her words, and belatedly, Harry remembered that she was still a little touchy about being reminded of a haystack in a certain cave on the world of Tantrum IV.

"Good night, Tom, B'Elanna. You might want to make an early night of it, too," added Kes. She was smiling, but with some concern. Tom was not suffering from an overactive imagination after all, Kes realized. Something was bothering B'Elanna, but Kes could tell she did not want to speak of it, at least, not in front of Harry and her.

"See you in the morning," Tom added, as his friends departed. When he turned his attention to B'Elanna, he hesitated before saying anything else. She really did not look well, but how could he ask her what was wrong without getting his head bitten off?

"So, now that you've eaten, would you like to go back to quarters and relax a bit?" He smiled at her with as much charm as he could in his worried state. "Come down to my place, B'Elanna, and I'll put on some nice music and we can cuddle up for a while."

"That's your answer for everything, isn't it Paris? A little sex, and everything will be fine."

"B'Elanna, I said relax, nothing more than that. I'm inviting you back to my quarters for the company, that's all. No lovemaking if you're not feeling well enough for it tonight. I can see you're tired."

"What do you think I am, some weakling? I'd like you to have the kind of day I had without feeling tired!"

"That's my point, Be'. You've been working so hard, you need to take a break and rest up a little. You've been..."

"You always know what's best for me, don't you. Well, I did just fine without you before, and I can do just as fine again."

"Be' ..." Tom began to feel a little desperate at the direction this conversation was going. What did he say? Why was she getting so upset? And he knew very well that if he confronted her with those questions, she would be even angrier at him. His own anger was simmering under the surface, and that "hostility thing" that Klingons sometimes used as foreplay was not in evidence in B'Elanna's manner or expression. This was not a game. She meant it.

Confirming all of his fears, B'Elanna turned away, reluctant to face him directly, as she threw out, "Paris, this just isn't working for me. We've had some laughs, some good times, but this relationship is not what I want or need. Let's just go back to being friends and forget the rest of it."

"B'Elanna, it's late, we're both tired. Let's talk about this another time when both of us are in a better mood. This is no time to be talking about something so . . . "

"Paris, there isn't anything to talk about. Face it, we were better off when we were just friends. Let's leave it at that." By keeping her face averted from Tom's, she did not see his dismayed look transform to a stronger emotion. For weeks, for his lover's sake, Tom had been consciously suppressing that mask of nonchalance he had always worn to protect himself, since B'Elanna hated it so much. That backfired now, as he could not keep his temper in check.

"Friends. You want to be 'friends.' You've shown me Paradise and now we're back to 'Hi, how are you, see you around?' " Tom grabbed her by both arms, pleading, "B'Elanna Torres, don't do this to us. I love you!"

"Let go of me, Paris, before I deck you!" she shouted. Breaking his hold, she stood up by the booth, taking a pace back when Tom jumped up as well.

"B'Elanna . . . ."

"Get away from me, Paris!" she screamed. "Enough! We've had enough! I've kept my damned promise to you, and now it's over!"

B'Elanna swiveled away from him, ran by the pool table, and out the door.

Tom held his position for several seconds, white-faced and trembling. After taking a few deep breaths, he became aware that there were no tavern sounds. A quick flicker of a look on each side of him showed that all of the remaining patrons of Sandrine's were staring at Thomas Eugene Paris.

Taking an agonized breath, Tom followed his love out the doors of Sandrine's, leaving behind a sudden outrush of sound as various crewmen called off the status of bets they had made concerning the length of the relationship of the ship's helmsman and the chief engineer. For the patient, there had been fireworks, after all.


	9. Moving On

Tom was the first to arrive in the conference room for the staff meeting. Tom generally sat to the left, next to B'Elanna and Tuvok. Instead of taking his accustomed seat, Tom stood until Tuvok, Harry, and Chakotay had taken their usual seats at the table. As he had expected, there was an open seat between Harry and Chakotay, to Janeway's right, which Tom promptly took. When the engineer entered the room, she took the chair nearest the door next to the seat that Neelix ended up taking, positioning herself so that she would not need to see Tom's face during the meeting.

The staff meeting was routine compared to most of those they had been having since the Borg and 8472 had first made their presence known to them. A few reports about repairs, supply status reports, and personnel issues were reviewed. Captain Janeway noted that her pilot and chief engineer had taken seats as far away from each other as possible in the small room, as well as the fact that neither had more than the barest minimum to contribute to the discussion. She looked over to Chakotay. His eyes were on Lt. Torres and Lt. Paris as well, and he bore a troubled expression.

"Are there any other issues anyone wishes to bring up?" The captain looked at each of her officers in turn. No one spoke up. "I'd like to speak with you, commander, but everyone else is dismissed." As everyone rose from the table, looks were exchanged between Janeway's staff. It had been quite a while since a meeting had ended with the commander and the captain remaining behind for a private discussion; it was no longer considered routine. Paris and Torres, however, hardly noticed because they were busy avoiding each other. Paris hung back from the door until Torres was well clear and already striding toward the turbolift to go to Engineering.

"Commander, what's going on between Tom and B'Elanna? A lover's spat?"

"You didn't hear about what happened last night at Sandrine's? The story is already all over the ship. From what I heard, it sounds like a lot more than a 'spat.' " He told the captain what he knew.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Tom, in particular, seemed so happy with her." She looked up at him sadly. "Our discussions about the dangers of 'fraternization' now seem to have an 'Exhibit A,' don't they?"

"Yes, Captain." Privately, he thought that Paris and Torres might be 'Exhibit B,' but he was too tactful to bring it up. "Is there anything else, Captain?"

"No, Commander." After a short pause, she added softly, "Dismissed."

After he left her, Captain Janeway walked slowly to her ready room, ruminating on maintaining crew morale when their journey home, taken objectively, was still only in its infancy.

* * *

"But Tom, what reason did she give for breaking it off?"

"Harry, I have no idea. She just said it wasn't what she wanted or needed. If she had an actual reason, she sure didn't bother to tell me what it was." The look in the helmsman's eyes was haunted and confused.

"Tom, you know how she gets sometimes. She'll come around. Just be nice to her when you see her. Don't crowd her, and this will all blow over."

"I hope you're right, Harry," Tom replied, in a hoarse, low tone. "This seemed different, somehow, though. She's been acting so strangely. And God knows, Harry, I did everything I could to avoid crowding her last night."

"She probably didn't see it that way."

"I guess not." Tom's sober expression was very unlike him. "Harry, do you think it is possible to love someone too much? I don't know . . . it almost seemed like she . . . she doesn't want me to love her."

"No, Tom, I don't think that's it. Maybe she just needs some time away from you to think things over."

Tom sighed. "I'm more than a little afraid that thinking things over away from me will turn into 'out of sight, out of mind.' She can do that, you know, just by burying herself in Engineering. She can always find something that needs to be fixed or made more efficient." Harry had to chuckle at that. He had been dragged into "efficiency upgrades" by B'Elanna on countless occasions

The two friends sat quietly, finishing their meal, until Harry finally offered, "Why don't Kes and I invite her for dinner? You can just 'drop in' during the meal. "

"You don't think she might get angrier if she smells a set-up, do you?"

"Kes can soothe her. It's worth a try."

"I guess it is worth a try, Harry. Especially since I don't have any better ideas at the moment."

* * *

If B'Elanna's staff in Engineering had thought that their chief had been difficult for the past week or two, they quickly recognized their mistake. Everyone was running constantly, responding to demands from Lt. Torres for the improvement of the efficiency ratings for virtually every piece of equipment in Engineering. When she made noises about moving to other areas of ship's functioning, Lt. Carey appealed to Commander Chakotay. Apologizing profusely for circumventing the usual chain of command, Carey begged the commander to have a talk with the lieutenant. After hearing out Mr. Carey, Chakotay agreed that, in this case, the decision to come directly to Chakotay appeared to be justified.

A short meeting between the commander and the chief engineer took place later in the day, with the avowed subject being the prioritizing of assignments so as not to lower staff efficiency through staff exhaustion. B'Elanna took the hint, although not particularly graciously. When Chakotay tried to open the discussion to B'Elanna's own state of mind, however, his overtures were brusquely received by the chief engineer.

"I'm doing just fine, thank you, Commander. Will that be all?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. That will be all." As she left his office, Chakotay sighed. He may have had his concerns about B'Elanna seeing Tom Paris, but he was beginning to suspect it might be even worse if B'Elanna were not with the helmsman.

* * *

Neelix's holographic resort program was running that evening. After the exciting events in Sandrine's the night before, a large percentage of the crew were milling around, hoping for another show. There was a great deal of brisk action among those who were of the betting persuasion. By the time Captain Janeway walked in with her latest pet project Seven-of-Nine, intending to provide the exiled Borg with another lesson on socializing during off-duty hours, the conversations were buzzing merrily. Many of these had to do with Captain Janeway's previous reclamation project, one Thomas Eugene Paris, who was holding court in the center of the resort.

Playboy Tom seemed to be back. Every woman received a bit of the famous Paris flirtatiousness, but a careful observer could see that the remarks, while pleasantly flattering and given with a smile, had no motivation other than to give the recipient a brief glow from being appreciated. Anyone, man or woman, who seemed in need of a few moments of attention received some. Even Seven-of-Nine was treated to a sample of Paris' gallantry when he came to where the captain and the former Borg were sitting, brought them each a drink, and chatted them up for several minutes. Captain Janeway was not fooled by his antics. The emptiness in his eyes told her all she needed to know.

"Tom, can we talk?" Megan Delaney waved him over to the table where she was sitting, alone at the moment.

"Sure. Need company? I thought I saw Gerron here before."

"He's over getting us something to drink. I don't suppose you want anything." She looked at his almost-full glass with a smidgen of disapproval. The colors in his glass had been changing all night, and she suspected that he was not limiting himself to synthehol.

Taking a seat across from Megan, Tom took a long swig of his drink.

"So, what do you want to talk about. Not me, I hope."

"Reading my mind, again, Tom? That's exactly the subject I had in mind. Or rather, we had in mind." Megan slid over to make room for Gerron, who was carrying a tray with two glasses of a fizzy pink liquid and a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

"I'm not a very interesting subject, even though I seem to be coming up in a lot of the conversations tonight." He took another long sip of his drink, then waved over a holodeck waiter to order another. Megan shared a glance with Gerron. It was even worse than they had thought.

"Tom, it's obvious how much you're hurting. If there is anything we can do, all you have to do is ask."

"Thanks, Meg, Gerron. I know you would help if you could. I'm not sure there is anything anyone can do." He paused, looking into the bottom of his now empty glass. "You know, I hailed her before I came here tonight. Asked her to dinner, just to eat, promised to keep it light, but she barely let me finish the invitation." He paused. "I'll have to give it some time, I think. Maybe I have to work on this on my own.

When he looked up from his glass, he could see sympathy and concern radiating from both pairs of eyes. "Just remember that if there is any way we can help, if you do need anyone to talk to, we'll listen. Both of us," Gerron said. Coming from him the offer might have meant even more than it might have from Megan. Tom had been close to her a long time, but even though he had not been as friendly with Gerron, Tom knew that the young Bajoran never said anything that he did not mean.

"Thanks, Gerron, Megan. I just may take you up on that." With the arrival of his drink, however, Tom made his good-byes and circulated the room once again.

"Do you think we'd have more luck talking to B'Elanna?" asked Gerron.

"Maybe if you did - you've known her longer than I have. I'm not sure what her reaction would be to me. I wish I knew what had gotten into her - they seemed so right for one another. I've never seen Tom like this before. He really has it bad for her."

Gerron put his arms around Megan and gave her a quick hug, which she responded to with a smile and a soft kiss. Seeing Tom's pain made them even more gratefully aware of their own feelings for one another.

Tom's social butterfly persona was in evidence all evening, but Janeway, Megan, and Gerron were not the only ones to realize it was a mask. When he left, Tom was intoxicated by something much stronger and more painful than synthehol, and no one failed to notice that he left alone.

* * *

After checking about the chief engineer's whereabouts via the comm system, Kes accidentally-on-purpose ran into her friend outside of Sickbay. The plans for a quiet dinner that would be interrupted by a certain tall, blond and blue-eyed human male had gone awry, simply because B'Elanna had not made herself available for an invitation when Harry had tried to ask her during the previous three days. Now it was time for the less subtle approach.

"Hi, B'Elanna, I've been looking for you."

"Here I am, Kes."

"I wanted to ask you about something."

"Not now, Kes. The Doctor is waiting for me. It's time for his weekly diagnostic."

"That's convenient, because I was just going to go into Sickbay myself. I have a few things to finish up before I meet Harry for dinner."

Smiling sweetly, Kes led B'Elanna into Sickbay. B'Elanna breathed in heavily but managed to keep herself from making any more noticeable sign of discomfort. She had been diligently avoiding Kes since the breakup with Tom. If anyone could recognize the tumultuous emotions that she had been trying so hard to keep in check, it would be the gentle but perceptive Ocampan woman.

When the two women entered his Sickbay, the Doctor registered their approach with what appeared to be some surprise. "Kes, I thought you were going to dinner."

"I had a few things to check up on in the lab." While saying this, Kes raised an eyebrow, tilted her head slightly, and then flashed an intent look at B'Elanna.

"Oh, of course, I remember now. Go right ahead. Carry on."

If B'Elanna didn't know better, she would have thought that the Doctor was actually getting flustered about something. "Are you experiencing some kind of difficulty, Doctor?"

"No, no, everything is just fine. That's why you're here, isn't it? To assure me that everything is fine."

B'Elanna stared at him. His behavior was decidedly odd. She would need to take extra care in her testing this evening.

* * *

B'Elanna checked the last reading on her instruments. "That's the last one, Doctor. According to the diagnostics, your program seems to be working perfectly. Do you have any concerns?" She was relieved that his unusual behavior did not appear to be due to any problems with the EMH system itself. After having an ample opportunity to put away her equipment without a reply from the Doctor, however, B'Elanna looked up at him. His usual answer was a brusque, "No, Lieutenant. Have a nice day." There was no doubt about it. He was looking at her with an unreadable look and definitely was acting abnormally.

"Doctor?"

"I, uh, don't have any concerns, exactly, but I was wondering if we might discuss something of a programming nature."

"Really, Doctor, I don't advise adding any more personality subroutines to your matrix, unless you are going to delete something. There are already so many variables in what constitutes your . . . ."

"Lieutenant, I'm not asking about your making any adjustments to my matrix. Not directly, at any rate." He stopped and cleared his throat for a second. B'Elanna wondered where that particular mannerism had come from. Had he been fooling around on his own again, or was it characteristic of one of the many doctors upon whom the EMH had been based? She was about to ask him about it when he went on, "I was thinking about my family. I'd like to extend the family program."

Of all the things that the Doctor might have said to B'Elanna, that was the least expected. "After all the pain you went through, when your daughter . . . .Doctor, do you really want to go through that again?"

"Of course I don't want to go through that kind of pain again, but going back to my family doesn't mean I will, necessarily. That kind of tragedy doesn't happen all the time, Lieutenant. I know it can happen more than once, of course. I have been reviewing the literature. Hopefully, Jeffrey and any future children would grow up hale and hearty."

"Future children!" B'Elanna looked at the Doctor and Kes in shock.

The Doctor made a face. "Well, the cat is out of the bag, as the saying goes. I don't even want to know how that particular saying got started, truth to tell. Well. Yes, I am considering having another child with Charlene. My wife. Jeffrey's mother."

"I know who Charlene is, Doctor. How could I ever forget her?" The saccharine sweetness of Mrs. Doctor as originally programmed had given B'Elanna a bad headache. "But, 'having a child?' "

"Kes and I have been talking it over. She felt that I had given up on the program too soon after Belle's death, that I didn't tie up all the loose ends, as it were. Since the program had never been deleted, I decided to go back a few more times. I did do a little programming, Lieutenant, I admit, but it was with Mr. Paris' and Mr. Kim's assistance, and they only helped me to advance the program a few months. I just couldn't - well, I had already gone back to the time immediately following my loss sufficiently for that. When I went back, though, Charlene was so glad to see me she broke down in tears. I found myself grieving with her again for Belle anyway.

"What Mr. Paris told me was true, Lt. Torres. Allowing myself to truly experience the grief and grow past it was beneficial. After I visited several more times, I realized how much more there is to family life than what I had experienced with the program as it had been originally designed. I had completely missed pregnancy, childbirth, infancy, and early childhood. I had jumped into my examination of family life far too precipitously. I might have gained valuable insight from dealing with a younger child that I might have used to avoid the pitfalls of dealing with teenagers. Charlene and I began to discuss having another baby, and I think it would be an excellent opportunity for me to explore other aspects of family life. Will you help me, Lieutenant?"

"I really think that the Doctor is right about pursuing this, B'Elanna," Kes jumped in eagerly. "Time can be telescoped a bit throughout the program - the Doctor and his family wouldn't be subject to the laws of real time that you and I are, so the pregnancy doesn't need to take nine months in real time as it usually does for humans - but think how much the Doctor could learn. He's been doing so much better in his interactions with the crew, just from what he's learned already."

After thinking about it, B'Elanna could see benefits in the plan. "All right, Doctor. I'll give it a try. While I'm at it, I'll look at the randomizing elements I added before. I think I may have gone overboard a little with the negatives after seeing the first version of the program." B'Elanna could not keep herself from cringing. That first look at the family over dinner had been a sickening experience, and she was sure that she had overreacted when she did her "tweaking." "We can get rid of Jeffrey's Klingon friends, and I'll make sure that future elements are fair to you in . . . "

"Lieutenant, you don't have to delete Larg and K'Kath. Once I got to know them and set some reasonable limits concerning Jeffrey's activities with them, it turned out that they weren't such bad influences after all. They were a great deal of help to Jeffrey when he was getting over the loss of his sister."

B'Elanna stared at him. This was getting stranger and stranger, but at least she finally understood the Doctor's earlier behavior, as well as Kes' unexpected presence in Sickbay when she should have been having dinner with Harry. "Fine, Doctor. I'll work on developing the birth and early childhood development program. Make sure that you let me know if you think about anything else. I don't want you tinkering with the program yourself." She picked up her instrument case and started to leave when an idea struck her. "Doctor, how do you want to . . . start this baby."

"What do you mean? Oh!" The Doctor looked shocked. "I hadn't really given that any thought, Lieutenant."

"You'd better."

"Perhaps you can give the Doctor the capability of choosing whether or not to experience that himself, B'Elanna," said Kes quietly. "Can you do that?"

"I believe I can. I happen to know of a few holodeck programs that are pretty - explicit - in that regard. We can make that one of the elements that you can control yourself, if you like."

"That would be acceptable." The Doctor's voice trailed off, but he was smiling especially broadly, his eye gaze far away.

Kes and B'Elanna exchanged grins. Apparently the Doctor was running through some of the possible scenarios already. B'Elanna had a feeling she already knew what his choice would be.

* * *

Kes followed B'Elanna out of Sickbay. "B'Elanna, wait a moment. I have something else I want to ask you."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Since it's so late, I thought you might like to join Harry and me for dinner in our quarters. We were going to replicate something for dinner tonight anyway, since we expected that the Doctor was going to be making his request to you tonight." Her smile was genuine, welcoming.

"Thanks for the invitation, Kes, but I wanted to get back to my own quarters early tonight. I've got a busy day coming up tomorrow."

"It's been a long time since we had a chance to talk together. We were really hoping that you'd come by, B'Elanna."

The half-Klingon engineer appraised her companion with a suspicious air. "Not to talk about a certain pilot, I hope," she snapped.

The expression on Kes' face revealed the truth, and she knew that only the truth would satisfy her friend now. "That was one of the subjects, yes, I admit it. But B'Elanna, he's been so unhappy, and . . . well . . . it seems like you have been avoiding us all since you argued with Tom. If you really _don't_ want to talk about it, of course we'll respect that."

"I suppose he was going to 'just happen to drop by' while I was there?" Her eyes were flashing dangerously.

Kes sighed. "That was Harry's original plan, but I put a stop to that. Tonight we were really only going to talk. Please forgive us. We care about you both. I'm sorry if I've put you into an uncomfortable position by asking you this."

The earnest look displayed upon Kes' face sapped away B'Elanna's anger. It was hard to remain angry with Kes for long; her sincere desire for others to be happy was a well-known, foregone conclusion. "I know you meant well. Give my regrets to Harry."

As B'Elanna strode determinedly away, Kes found that she had to lean against the corridor wall, all of her energy drained away by her conversation with the engineer. After a few minutes resting, during which time her strength did not return as much as she expected, Kes signaled Harry to come meet her at Sickbay, without revealing the reason she wanted him to come. He would offer her his arm automatically out of courtesy, she knew. While waiting for Harry, Kes decided that if this feeling she was having was going to be typical, matchmaking was not an activity she would be doing much of in the future.

* * *

"Paris to Torres."

:::_Torres here.:::_

"Lieutenant, if you're free tonight, I'd like to invite you to dinner. No pushing. No pressure. Just two old friends having dinner. What do you say?"

:::_Thanks for the offer. I'm busy.:::_

The filtering effect of the comm transmission did not obscure the finality of the rejection in her voice. Asking her if she'd consider having dinner tomorrow, or the day after that, or the next day, would undoubtedly elicit the same response.

"Another time, then, Lieutenant."

:::_Fine. Torres out.:::_

Tom leaned against the wall in his quarters. At least she had answered his hail. That might be progress; but more likely, she thought of it as her duty, in case he had some engineering problem to be addressed. He had better not think of it as an opening for any future involvement. For the hundredth time he cursed himself for letting her get to him the way she had. But gotten to Tom, she had. No question.

If Tom had thought that the fantasies he had had about getting physical with Lt. Torres had preoccupied him before they first slept together, he now knew better. Those fantasies were nothing compared to the sharp, painful clarity of his memories of their time together on Tantrum IV and on board Voyager since their return. Over and over again in his head he heard echoes of her voice, felt the whisper of her touch, sensed the breath of her mouth on his. He shook his head to free himself of thoughts of her the way a dog shakes water off its body. He had to get a grip on himself.

And he had to get himself to the bridge. It was time for his shift. Quickly tugging on his boots, Tom left his quarters for his duty station at the helm.

* * *

Tom's shift had been boring today. Nothing new or interesting occurred to divert his attention from the grim thoughts that were plaguing his mind. The one good thing about the boring day was that a certain chief engineer had no cause to appear on the bridge for the entire shift. He would be thankful for small favors.

After a sparse, replicated dinner of chicken soup and crackers (he had to get the damned thing programmed for a good bowl of tomato soup someday, he just couldn't seem to get it right), Tom paced restlessly. Unfortunately for him, pacing reminded him of someone.

Groaning, Tom leaned his head in his hands for a couple of minutes before deciding he was being absolutely ridiculous about this. He needed to provide himself with a constructive outlet. Write a holonovel for the crew to enjoy, Tom - Janeway has given you carte blanche to do one. Let's see, how about a holonovel set on a lonely world of perpetual winter. Let's call it Temper Tantrum. There's an idea - the crew will love it. Instead of having everyone ask about what happened, they can live it!

The men get to be the feckless Starfleet helmsman, hopelessly in love with the ex-Maquis engineer. The women, of course, take on the role of the brilliantly talented chief engineer, who finds the helmsman's attentions hysterically funny, and ultimately, absurd. If the crew liked Insurrection Alpha, they'll love this one.

Ah, no, Tommy, that won't do. No point in writing a program that couldn't run on the holodeck. The safeties that prevent someone from getting hurt wouldn't allow for this program to run at all. No way for someone not to get hurt. Too bad.

He laughed. It was a bitter laugh, perhaps, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Tom, you really are wallowing in it now. You're feeling sorry for yourself, and that is a very, very, very bad place for Tom Paris to be. Tom Paris has done some stupendously stupid things when he was in this kind of mood - joining the Maquis, for instance. Going to the Resort, drinking himself silly, and making a fool of himself the other night was only the most recent example. When your ex-girlfriend and her new lover try to cheer you up, you know you've hit bottom. And the hangover the next day . . . whoa! Forget going out, at least in public, Paris.

Visiting Mr. and Mrs. Kim might be a possibility, as it was not like going to Sandrine's or the Resort. Harry and Kes had invited him over to their quarters tonight, but he felt awkward being in their company right now. They were so obviously honeymooners, practicing for Kes' Elogium, no doubt. Thinking of Harry caused a genuine smile to cross Tom's face. When Harry finally decided to get on with his life, he did it in spectacular fashion, that was for sure. They had much better things to do with their time right now than to play nursemaid to Tom Paris' broken heart. Much better things, things he would like to be doing with B'Elanna right now.

Thinking her name made him remember the hunger he had awakened in her. It was her due, that power of a Klingon woman that no one had ever bothered to nurture in her before Tom. As painful as it was for him to think about now, he realized that now he knew what all those gross comments made in those crummy bars were about. If nothing else, he had experienced a Klingon woman - or a half-Klingon, to be precise. Tom smiled wanly. The half-Klingon may have been enough for him; he doubted that he would have survived anything more intense than what they had experienced together.

Maybe she had just realized the truth about him; he wasn't really her type, after all. Maybe, Tom Paris, you should be grateful that you had a chance to experience that Klingon woman. Even more, you should be proud that you were the one responsible for awakening her to her own powers, even though another man would get the benefit someday, unfair as that might seem. Maybe giving her the gift of finding out that about herself should be enough for you. Too bad it didn't feel that way, but some things just are. You should have learned that by now, Tom.

Enough with the self-pity; Tom decided to do something constructive. He had some work to do. There were reports due about training flights for several of the crew's personnel records. Jim Joseph, especially, should be commended. Chakotay had mentioned his flying the Sacajawea for the monitoring flights. While Tom knew that the commander would have filed his own reports, Tom had some comments of his own, to tie Chakotay's reports in with his own recommendation that Jim was ready to serve as a pilot on some missions, not just as a co-pilot or for routine testing on repaired shuttles. Tom should make the entries. Work was good, it was apparently what she was doing since the break-up. He sat at his desk to do some nice, boring paperwork.

For over an hour, recording comments in the personnel files of his students occupied Lt. Paris' time. An entry to his official log, and another, short personal log entry followed. Then, when Tom remembered that he had forgotten to make an entry for one student, he turned back to the personnel files to make it up. That was it, though, and not even two hours were gone, including the time he had spent having dinner. Now what? Finish reading _Women Warriors at the River of Blood?_ Guess not, no reason to finish that one now, although Tom was curious to know how it ended.

Tom was about to click on the story reader program when a fragment of a memory about looking up a certain personnel record flashed into his mind. An officer named Torres, about whom he actually knew very little, not even the man's first name. He hesitated. Now that B'Elanna and he were no longer together, he had little reason to look up that file. Ethically, he probably shouldn't. But as a senior officer of Voyager, he was authorized to enter such files. What if he found out something important, something that B'Elanna _SHOULD_ know about her father?

After wrestling with the moral issues for a few minutes, Tom succumbed to the temptation. "Computer, access Starfleet Personnel Archive files, code Paris gamma-rho-theta."

_:::Working.:::_

"Computer, cite personnel records of active or inactive officers fitting the following established parameters: Last name, Torres."

_:::There are 5647 entries that correspond to that request.:::_

"Okay, how about "Home world, Earth."

_:::There are 3284 entries that correspond to that request.:::_

"Cross reference to entries citing the name of the planet Kessik IV."

_:::There are 4 entries that correspond to that request.:::"_

Now that was a surprise. A chance similarity of names? Or did B'Elanna have family members that she didn't even know about that lived on Kessik IV? Maybe he would have to look them all up, but first, a narrower approach.

"Cross reference to entries having the name B'Elanna Torres included in the entry."

:::_There are 2 entries that correspond to that request.:::_Ah hah! Bingo.

"Computer, display those two files."

Tom's computer screen lit up with the loaded files. The first was easy to dispose of: it was the record of one B'Elanna Torres, Starfleet Academy drop-out. Tom lingered over the record anyway. He felt a pang of desire as the the image of a young and belligerent-looking woman of half-Klingon, half-human blood glared out of the screen at him. If they could only have gotten together earlier, would it have been different for both of them? He hadn't really gotten to be a 'pig' until he had let Caldik Prime happen and was cashiered from Starfleet. Would respect for the honor of the Klingons, absorbed earlier, have enabled him to speak the truth from the beginning, when a minor reprimand instead of dishonorable discharge would have been his discipline? Could he have helped her cope with the Academy's demands and to gain confidence in herself sooner in life? He would never know. Tom reached out to graze the image's cheek with his fingertips.

After touching B'Elanna's image, Tom moved his thumb to advance the screen to the next file. He leaned his chin against his hand as he perused its contents. Why the marital breakup had occurred he could not say after reading the records; but that was an answer he never had expected to glean from the Starfleet records anyway. That did not alter the fact that the file of Lieutenant Commander Rafael Torres was an illuminating one in many ways. There were answers for B'Elanna here if she chose to search for them, but Tom doubted she ever would access this file. It was just a shame that it made for such depressing reading.


	10. Shocking Revelation

"Torres to Sickbay."

:::_Yes, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?:::_

"Doctor, are you free at the moment? I've completed that bit of programming for you that you wanted."

:::_Yes, I'm free, Lieutenant. No one is here at the moment. Would you prefer to meet me in one of the holodecks?:::_

"I was thinking of that; but I checked; they're all in use at the moment. If you don't mind, I'll just drop this off to you, and we can work on the installation another time."

:::_I'll be waiting, Lt. Torres.:::_ The cheeriness in his voice was evident. It occurred to B'Elanna that she was glad that someone was going to be happy to see her, but she ruthlessly suppressed that train of thought. There were plenty of people that were glad to see her. Kes and Harry, for instance. They liked to see everyone, though. She had to admit that her staff in Engineering did not seem happy to see her. They probably would be rejoicing as soon as she left at the end of her shift.

B'Elanna had managed to avoid Paris since she had turned down his most recent dinner invitation; and he now seemed to be avoiding her as well. Neelix fawned on everyone; and expecting a Vulcan to be "happy" to see anyone was a fantasy. Janeway and Chakotay didn't seem particularly happy about anything, and B'Elanna was at a loss to figure out what Seven-of-Nine was thinking or feeling at any given point. Growing up Borg did not lend itself to the expression of personal feelings. B'Elanna shuddered. As much as she had fought against her Klingon heritage, that was nothing compared to what it must have been like to have been raised by the Borg.

As B'Elanna traveled from Engineering to Sickbay in the turbolift, another spell of lightheadedness assaulted her. She had to grab hold of the bar inside the lift to keep her balance. 'Burying yourself in work all the time isn't a good idea,' she told herself roughly. 'But burying myself in work is the only think that keeps me from thinking about Tom,' she countered mentally.

B'Elanna did not want to think about his smile, or the sound of his voice as he told a joke, or his beautiful hands as they pranced over his keypad at the helm, or the way they felt when he... "Stop it!" she shouted to herself, glad that no one was with her in the turbolift.

B'Elanna felt her stomach lurch again as the turbolift reached Deck 5. Just thinking about her handsome former lover was turning her stomach, now. What a perfectly un-Klingon thing that was. She sighed. If she had wanted to keep thoughts of Tom from invading her mind, breaking up with him seemed to have been the wrong way to do it.

The Doctor's "Hello, Lieutenant!" was particularly enthusiastic as she walked into Sickbay. B'Elanna returned his wave. Yes, the Doctor was happy to see her this evening. She handed him the padd with the family program modifications.

"Here it is, Doctor. I've loaded in the parameters for human pregnancy, childhood and adolescence; and I've worked on the algorithms for a fair randomizing of all the variables in the program, including the gender of the child. You may get a baby that cries all the time, Doctor, I'm warning you. This is not going to be a lollipop kid. There are no guarantees about bad things not happening this time, but I've taken special care that the probabilities for illnesses, disabilities, and accidents are all exactly in line with norms on Earth. That's what you said that you wanted."

"It is indeed, Lieutenant. If I am to derive any value from my family, I must leave some things to chance. I've learned my lesson."

"Still, if you want me to do any specific modifications to the program before you decide to install it, hail me and I'll take care of it. Oh, by the way, the random elements include that one choice you have about, uh, how to initiate the modification. You can jump into the scenario before or after the pregnancy actually starts, it's your choice."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That's very thoughtful of you." B'Elanna shook her head, even as she grinned. This whole thing still seemed weird to her.

Shaking her head may not have been the best idea. The room swirled, and muttering "_baQa'_," a Klingon curse she almost never used, B'Elanna had to grab onto a biobed to keep from losing her balance the way she had in the turbolift.

The Doctor noticed. "What's wrong, Lt. Torres? Are you ill?"

"It's nothing, Doctor. I'm pretty tired. I've just been working much too hard lately, I think. Unless you have some of those Macroviruses floating around in here again. My stomach is - unsettled, like it was when we were invaded by those flying monstrosities.

"If that's the case, Lieutenant, you should have availed yourself of my professional services sooner. That is, after all, my true purpose on this ship. Come over here and let me scan you."

"Doctor..."

"I know how much you hate my interventions, Lieutenant, but I insist. Have you any other symptoms that you can tell me about?"

Glancing upwards in exasperation, B'Elanna considered bolting for the exit, but another sudden roll of her stomach made her decide to cooperate with the Doctor's inquisition. "Well, I've been a little lightheaded, sometimes. Not too often, but sometimes. My staff would tell you that I'm irritable, I guess. Everyone is walking on eggshells around me, or so Kes tells me. I have to admit I do seem tired all the time lately, I think because I haven't been sleeping very well. I've tried exercising to make my sleep deeper, but it doesn't seem to help. I've also tried sleeping extra hours, but I can't seem to shake the fatigue anyway. And my..." She hesitated. It was probably nothing, but he was asking for symptoms; this might be one. "Well, my breasts have been really sore the last few weeks. Swollen, I guess. I just can't figure out what's wrong with me. You don't think I am really, seriously sick, do you." Suddenly B'Elanna was worried. Maybe she _had_ been too laissez-faire about her health.

As she had been reciting her symptoms, the Doctor had been moving his basic medical tricorder over B'Elanna. Grunting a quick, "Fascinating," he moved to his instrument console, switched on a computer screen, and took hold of another probe. This time all of his attentions were centered upon his patient's abdomen.

"Doctor, what in the name of Kahless is wrong with me! Tell me, now!" B'Elanna began to get alarmed, which resembled anger to the untrained eye.

"Actually, Lieutenant, nothing is 'wrong' with you. You are simply experiencing a perfectly normal bodily process. What a coincidence that we should be talking about my family program at a time like this!" The Doctor beamed at B'Elanna. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. You are going to be a mother."

"I am going to be a _WHAT!_"

"A mother. In about seven or eight months, or thereabouts."

"That's impossible," B'Elanna said, flatly.

"What do you mean, Lieutenant? I seem to recall that there was evidence to believe that you and Mr. Paris have had an intimate relationship. Am I in error?" The look of a raptor appeared in his eyes. "So far, the literature has never been able to confirm a virgin birth, but . . . "

"I don't mean it's impossible _that_ way. But it just can't happen."

"Of course it can, Lieutenant, especially to someone who is as lax about their contraceptives as you have been. My records indicate that you did not come back to renew your implant when it passed its effective limit three months ago. You will recall that you said that you would 'come back later' for it when I examined you after your experience with Mr. Paris on that Tantrum world. Not that that is particularly unusual, of course - no one ever listens to my advice. I don't know why I persist in giving it."

"Doctor, what did I need it for! There aren't any other Klingons within thousands of parsecs from here!"

"Why did you think that you could only have a child if you had relations with a Klingon? Do you think I am in the habit of prescribing medications and treatments for my patients that are not needed?" His indignation was aroused.

"Doctor, I know I can't have children with a human so easily. Klingon and human matings need 'technical assistance' to happen. Do you know how much my mother had to go through to get me? She told me about it enough! Every time she was angry at me, in fact, which was pretty often!"

"I am familiar with the technical aspects, Lieutenant," he said dryly. "It is precisely because it is so arduous an undertaking that almost all couples make arrangements for the reproductive compatibility of the resultant offspring with one species or the other, based on expected lifestyles. Since your parents obviously were not sure from which species your most likely mate might come, they made sure your reproductive system was compatible with both humans and Klingons. Quite prescient of them. An amazing technical achievement and, I might add, so elegant a solution to the problems of interspecies mating that I almost might have thought of it myself."

B'Elanna looked at the Doctor in complete confusion. This can't be happening. "This must be a mistake. My organ systems are Klingon."

"Most of them are, Lt. Torres. Not the reproductive system. At least, not entirely. Your uterus is capable of nourishing an embryo fertilized by either species, and the hormones to maintain pregnancy are virtually identical for both. We can see that 94.7 % of the eggs in your right ovary are compatible with Klingon sperm; while in your left ovary, 97.3 % of the eggs are human-compatible. I would say that you would be slightly more fertile with a human, actually, given that ratio. The egg for this pregnancy must obviously have come from the left ovary." The EMH walked over to his scan display and punched the console several times. "Yes, here it is. I totally missed that during your examination when you returned from the planet. A new protocol is indicated, I think . . . "

"_DOCTOR!"_

"Oh, yes, Lieutenant. Sorry to have gone off on that little tangent. As far as your symptoms go, they all sound perfectly reasonable for someone with mixed human and Klingon heritage. The swelling of the breasts, in particular, is associated with both Klingons and humans. We'll be needing to see you every . . . "

B'Elanna screeched the EMH into silence. "I can't have this baby, Doctor! I am the chief engineer of Voyager! I work hours on end, and sometimes I'm not home long enough to get any sleep myself! How can I care for a baby? There are all kinds of dangers in Engineering-radiation, accidents. I can't do this! I'm alone!"

"I hardly think that's true, Lt. Torres. Ensign Wildman has had many of the crew help her with Tabitha. And Mr. Paris would certainly help you. He's quite sympathetic when it comes to families. He was extremely helpful to me when . . . ."

"Don't you _DARE_ tell Thomas Eugene Paris about this!"

This outburst managed to silence the EMH. After successfully achieving a modicum of control over her temper, B'Elanna went on. "Besides, Doctor. Since I had no idea I was pregnant, I have certainly exposed this baby to radiation hazards."

The Doctor picked up his medical tricorder, checking B'Elanna's abdomen again with care. "You had no idea, Lieutenant? Just how long is your normal menstrual cycle, then? And how many days long is it, on average?"

"Four weeks. Give or take a day or two. It usually lasts for about four days." B'Elanna felt her throat suddenly go very dry.

"Hmm. And you had a normal cycle last time?"

"It was a little short."

"How short, Lieutenant?"

"A day long. Maybe less. Maybe . . . a couple of hours." She exhaled sharply. How could she have been so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"A little spotting during implantation in the uterine wall. Perfectly normal, then." He scanned her abdomen one more time. "And I can detect no problems at all with the embryo. A perfectly normal, healthy, three-quarters-human, one-quarter-Klingon female fetus. Now that we know, protective measures can be taken to prevent any radiation exposure to her." He smiled encouragingly at B'Elanna.

Oh, great. It's a girl too. What kind of mother is B'Elanna Torres going to be, with such a great role model to follow! "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't do this. I need to end this. Now."

The Doctor's smile faded. While he still might have needed some work in regards to bedside manner and the evaluation of a patient's emotional status in certain situations, the Doctor did not need assistance in interpreting the look on B'Elanna's face. Furious, yet frightened, too, although she would have throttled anyone who dared suggest to her that she was the latter.

"Am I hearing you correctly, that you are saying that you do not wish to carry this child to term?"

"You are hearing me correctly."

"I will do a termination of pregnancy if you insist, but there are certain regulations restricting this procedure. There is a waiting period."

"How long?"

"The procedure cannot be done prior to the passing of at least a 72 hour period from the time the pregnancy is confirmed, to make sure that the mother is not making a snap decision influenced by being in shock from first learning of her condition."

B'Elanna looked at the chronometer. "I'll be back three days from now, at 1933 sharp."

"Lt. Torres, shouldn't you talk over this decision with Lt. Paris, first?"

"I told you not to bring him into this."

"But Lieutenant . . . "

"We are not together, anymore, Doctor. There's no point to it. Leave him out of it. In fact, I don't want anyone else to know about this but you and me."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I cannot do the procedure without my assistant's presence. That is by Starfleet regulation, also."

B'Elanna bent her head down and closed her eyes. Kes. Kes would have to know. Her stomachs did another leap over each other. She did not want to think about the look that would be in Kes' eyes when she heard about this, but it could not be helped.

"All right. You'll have to tell Kes. Make it clear to her that _NO ONE ELSE_ is to know. Not even Harry. And especially, not Paris."

The Doctor bobbed his head. B'Elanna leaned on the biobed again. Her stomach was really flopping around now.

"Lieutenant," the Doctor said softly. "Are you in need of any assistance?"

"Can you make my stomachs behave for the next few days?"

"The literature suggests that keeping the stomach filled sometimes helps. Human females often have extreme reactions to pregnancy, with nausea very common and vomiting occurring frequently. Your Klingon stomachs should protect you from the worst of such symptoms; but if not, come to me and I will give you something. Try food first, Lieutenant, the blandest you can find."

As B'Elanna exited Sickbay, the Doctor regarded her thoughtfully. This was another aspect of the family that he had not considered. The subroutines in his program for sadness and regret were activated.

* * *

Her thoughts in a jumble, B'Elanna moved as if on automatic pilot out of the Sickbay door. She found herself in front of the turbolift, stepping aside for Ensigns Lang and Ashmore, who eyed B'Elanna curiously as they exited. Entering the half-filled lift, B'Elanna meant to say "Deck 11" to return to Engineering, even though she did not have any reason to go back there tonight. Lost in thought, she said nothing and instead found herself on Deck 2, standing in front of the mess hall door. B'Elanna was briefly confused, but then mentally shook herself. 'It's dinnertime, Torres,' she said to herself. 'The doctor said that eating would help your queasiness.' After her mental pep talk, she entered the mess hall.

Of all the people who had to be standing in line in front of her, why did it have to be Thomas Eugene Paris, the last person she wanted to see? B'Elanna could not believe her bad luck. Compounding her distress was the sensation that her second stomach was trying to rise up through the first one and exit her body via her throat. She absolutely refused to be sick! At the very thought, her anger began to assert itself.

Tom, who was awaiting his turn to accept Neelix's dinner offering, turned around to greet the person who had just came in the door. He was momentarily staggered to see the one person he had been longing to see, the person who had been so assiduously avoiding him for the last several days. Calming himself the best that he could and smiling warmly, he quietly said, "Hello, B'Elanna. It's good to see you again."

Her temper erupted at her hapless ex-lover. "It is _NOT_ good to see you, _petaQ_!" Pivoting on her heel, she ran out of the mess hall.

"And a fine day to you too, Lt. Torres," Tom said grimly to her trim back as she retreated to the safety of the corridor.

From his position in line directly in front of Tom Paris, Tuvok stared at Lt. Torres as she stormed out the door. Neelix, after a brief hesitation of his own as he observed the outburst, handed the security officer his meal, shaking his head in wonderment as he did so. Despite a careful evaluation of the exchange between his two fellow officers, Tuvok could detect nothing in Mr. Paris' words, tone, or attitude to account for her behavior. Shifting his attention to Paris, the Vulcan was struck by the young man's extreme pallor, closed eyes, and ragged breathing.

"My word, Tom! What was that all about?" Neelix asked breathlessly as he leaned over the counter.

Through clenched teeth, the helmsman said, "Lt. Torres has apparently decided to eat dinner somewhere else. I think I may do the same." Tom backed up a step to deposit his tray back on the stack.

"That is unfortunate, Lieutenant. I had thought to ask you to join me for dinner," said Tuvok.

Tom turned to the tall, dark man beside him in some surprise. Tuvok seldom ate meals with anyone, other than for an occasional meal with the captain. "I'm not very hungry today, Tuvok. You'd do better with someone else for a dinner companion."

"I do not see anyone else in the mess hall that I would prefer sharing a meal with, Mr. Paris. If you are not hungry, you might do me the honor of sitting with me anyway to share some conversation, which, I might add, is considered an invaluable aid to the digestion." He did not elaborate on the fact that it was particularly helpful when eating a meal prepared by Neelix. Despite his emotional turmoil, Tom was perceptive enough to recognize Tuvok's unvoiced comments, not only about Neelix's cooking, but also the desire to speak with Tom.

"Are you sure? My 'conversation' might not be particularly enjoyable for a Vulcan to hear right now."

"'Enjoyable is not a necessary condition of the invitation, Lt. Paris. On the contrary, any sort of conversation you care to make will be satisfactory to me."

After considering the request for a few seconds, Tom placed his tray back on the counter and chose Neelix's special of the day, which happened to be Vargallian casserole with sweet tubers and bread pudding. During his wait for Tom, Tuvok surveyed the room and noted a seat for two people that was about to open up at the far end of the mess hall. He nodded towards the table when Tom turned around with his food. As he was about to walk away with Tom, the Vulcan heard Neelix hiss, "Mr. Tuvok!"

Tuvok looked back at Neelix. The Talaxian's face was glowing in approval. "People skills, Mr. Vulcan! Glad to see those people skills!"

With an expression that could have been interpreted as distaste if observed on the visage of a being that was not a Vulcan, Tuvok followed the helmsman to the table they had found.

* * *

"I guess you can tell that my relationship with our chief engineer is 'kaput.' "

" 'Kaput,' Mr. Paris?"

"That means ended, finished, absolutely over, a snowball's chance on Vul . . . ah, let's just say permanently and completely dead, and leave it at that."

"Oh. That has become common knowledge, Lieutenant." Tuvok, after taking a few bites of his food, added, "But is your relationship really over? Her reactions just now were quite extreme, to say the least. Since you gave her no apparent cause to be upset, something else must be bothering her. Perhaps she is even now regretting the loss of your friendship."

The helmsman sighed as he picked at his food. "I wish I could agree with you, Tuvok, but she's made it very clear that she doesn't want to have anything to do with me." Tom looked out the windows of the mess hall to the stars beyond. The idea that B'Elanna might have finally figured out that Tom was not good enough for her crossed his mind, but he could not bring himself to burden the Vulcan with this revelation.

"I would not be so certain of that, Mr. Paris. The two of you seemed quite well suited to one another. You share temperaments that are somewhat prone to impulsivity and which lack a measure of reserve, making them volatile, that is true. Disagreements tend to be frequent in unions between beings that share these traits. A significant amount of time needs to be spent by the respective parties in 'making up,' or so I have observed."

Tom managed a weak smile. "You're absolutely right, Tuvok. 'Making up' would constitute a great deal of our lives together. The trouble is, the 'respective parties' have to be speaking with one another in order to make up. You saw what just happened when I said, 'hello!' "

"May I suggest that you give her a little time before approaching her again."

Now there was some advice that he hadn't been hearing more than a dozen times a day. "I'll think about it, Tuvok. Not only is it the logical thing to do, it's the only thing to do. She'd probably break something, preferably something on me, if I tried to speak to her now." Despite the surface lightness of his words, the helmsman looked anything but lighthearted. Taking a few bites from what was on his plate before toying with the rest of it, Tom looked up tentatively to meet the eyes of the Vulcan. "I don't mean to pry, Tuvok, but I've heard a little about how strong Vulcan marriage bonds are supposed to be, and I know that you've been married a long time. Does that famous Vulcan logic mean that you can count on always being able to figure out what is going on with a Vulcan woman? That you can avoid having misunderstandings?"

"I have found that it is impossible to live with any sentient being for very long without a certain number of misunderstandings occurring. It is a natural part of any relationship."

"That sounds like 'no,' Tuvok."

"The sharing of information between partners is never perfect, Mr. Paris. One believes that the other knows about something, without stopping to recall that the other party has had no opportunity to gain such knowledge. Assumptions can be made that are inappropriate in consequence. It is not logical, I must admit. But it is true that misunderstandings can occur between members of any race, including Vulcans. The difference is that we are trained from childhood to deal more appropriately with such misinterpretations than by pure emotion." Tuvok paused a moment. He was not quite sure how much more to say to Tom.

"You mean you actually talk about your differences instead of trying to take the other's head off when something really threatening is said, such as, 'Hello,' for instance."

"I am not quite sure I would usually phrase it that way, Mr. Paris; but yes, I believe your statement is essentially accurate."

Tom gave up all pretense of actually eating his dinner. The tubers conjured up memories of much pleasanter meals eaten in a harshly cold cavern on Tantrum IV, and he did not seem to have a taste for any casserole or bread pudding tonight. After taking a sip of coffee, Tom decided that if he was ever going to ask the question he had been burning to ask, it would have to be now.

"I don't know if it would work with me, Tuvok, but I have heard that humans sometimes have successfully studied Vulcan philosophy and techniques, to assist in controlling anger and other strong emotions. Would you consider helping me learn to control mine better? Of course, I'm not sure I have any right to ask this after I gave Harry so much grief for coming to you for help when he had that problem with Marayna."

"You have every right to make the request, Lieutenant, and I am more than willing to work with you. Your method of dealing with Mr. Kim's obsession would have been just as valid an approach as mine, had she actually been a holodeck character."

"Do you think it might help?"

"I would never advise anyone against making the attempt to improve their self-control."

"Thanks Tuvok. I really appreciate this. When can we start?"

"Come to my quarters when we finish here, and we will begin at once. I promise no miracle cures, Mr. Paris, you must understand."

"I'm not expecting any, Tuvok. I'm not even expecting you to help me fall 'out of love.' I'd just like some help in learning how not to display my heart on my sleeve for anyone who looks at me to take potshots at. Especially her." Lt. Tuvok did not need to ask who "her" was.

"The practicing of meditative techniques will be beneficial in and of themselves, Mr. Paris."

The two men left the topic of human emotional attachments for several minutes as they talked about other things. As Tuvok was drinking the herbal tea that he favored, Tom queried, "Tuvok, I don't mean to be insulting. I know how sensitive . . . certain functions . . . are to a Vulcan, but I was wondering. About this bonding thing. You do it when you are children? Picking a mate, I mean."

"That is the traditional way. The parents find partners for their children who would appear to make satisfactory mates."

"Does it ever fail to 'take' with one partner or the other?"

"Yes, Mr. Paris. If the bond between the partners does not take hold sufficiently, the completion of the ritual of _koon-ut kal-if-fee,_ about which you have become aware, is often the consequence."

From the finality evident in Tuvok's voice as he finished this statement, Tom decided that to inquire further might jeopardize the meditative exercises Tuvok was willing to give to him, and Tom did not wish to do that. A safer topic might be family. Tom asked Tuvok about his children. All the pilot knew of Tuvok's family was that he had some.

"My three eldest children are all male. They have each taken mates and had at least one child as of the last time I had contact with them. The number of my grandchildren was five, at last count. The youngest, our only daughter, was an unexpected arrival. She was born twenty-one years after the birth of our youngest son."

"You must miss them a lot, Tuvok."

"No day passes without my experiencing a desire to see them."

As the two officers stood up to return their trays to Neelix, Tom asked Tuvok, "What is your wife's name, Tuvok?"

"She is called T'Pel."

"Do you have a holographic image of your wife, Tuvok?"

"There are images of T'Pel and my children in my quarters."

"Is she very pretty?"

It was the Vulcan's turn to gaze out of the window towards the stars. In his quiet voice, Tuvok replied, "T'Pel defines beauty for me, Mr. Paris."

Tom studied the Vulcan's seemingly impassive face. It was truly amazing how much Vulcans could express in a few spare words, despite their masking of emotion, if one took the time to look for it. Tom began to feel hopeful that Tuvok could help him get over B'Elanna. And if the Vulcan was accurate in his appraisal of the reason she exploded at him a while ago - perhaps he might even have a chance to win her back.

* * *

The chime to the quarters of Lt. Torres sounded. "B'Elanna, are you there?"

"Yes, Kes. Enter."

Kes walked into her friend's quarters. The lights were down to 20% illumination, and B'Elanna was sitting in the darkest corner of the room. A half-filled plate of dry crackers and a glass of water were sitting next to her.

"He didn't waste any time telling you about it, did he?"

B'Elanna's voice was deceptively calm, and Kes quailed at the feelings of murderous rage and self-disgust that she could perceive emanating from the half-Klingon woman. Taking a seat on the couch, at less than an arm's reach from her friend, Kes tried to project as much sympathy and soothing thoughts as she could toward B'Elanna.

"The Doctor said you had no idea such a thing could happen accidentally."

"She never told me! Kes, she never said anything at all about it! How could she keep such a thing secret!" B'Elanna jumped up and began to pace. "She warned me against getting involved with humans, that was true, but she never said anything about my being able to become pregnant by a human! I was told my major organ systems were Klingon. You'd think being honest with me about what my parents had done to my reproductive system would be obligatory for an honorable Klingon! The fact is, she avoided talking about sex as much as she could, except to tell me not to do it."

"Did your mother take it for granted that Klingons wouldn't ever put you into this position in the first place? I mean, knowing that Klingon tradition dictates mating for life."

"Oh, she didn't take that for granted. She told me, 'Never become _*par'machai*_ B'Elanna.' That means being a lover instead of a wife. 'You bring dishonor upon our House if you do.' That's a dishonor she never had to worry about! No Klingon male ever wanted to have anything to do with me. I was too ugly for them."

"B'Elanna, we've been over this. You know you aren't ugly. Lots of men feel you are attractive. Harry has told me how beautiful he thinks you are. I'd be jealous if he didn't prove all the time to me how much he loves me!" She tried to cheer B'Elanna with a light giggle.

B'Elanna was not mollified. "Sure, lots of men. They've been swarming all over me ever since I got on board Voyager."

"There is one who has made no secret of how he feels about you."

"That was just sex, and you know it, Kes. He's over me already."

"Really? Then how come he's been dragging around with the face of doom since that night at Sandrine's? B'Elanna, he's been suffering . . . "

"Leave him out of it, Kes. I am not exactly thrilled with him at the moment. Look what he's done to me!"

" 'Done to you?' I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I had been led to believe that your relations with Tom were by mutual consent."

At Kes' frigid tone, B'Elanna was brought up short. "I don't mean to imply there was any coercion on his part," she stammered. "If there was any coercion, I guess I would have to say it was on my part. But that's my point. He was very reluctant to even havesex with me on Tantrum. I mean, it was obvious. I was available and willing. My looks have nothing to do with what happened between us."

"He didn't seem at all reluctant to me. In fact, Tom told Harry that the reason he held back was because he was afraid that it was too soon for the two of you to become intimate. He said he was afraid that you would be frightened off by getting involved too deeply, too soon."

"I am never frightened," B'Elanna stated emphatically, a chill entering her own voice. "And I see that his promise never to talk to anyone about what happened on that planet has been conveniently forgotten."

Kes sighed. She had infringed upon the Klingon cultural imperative of never admitting to fear, even though B'Elanna professed that she wanted nothing to do with Klingon culture. She would have to tread carefully from now on. Mildly, the blonde haired woman responded, "He's only mentioned it to Harry once, and that was just in passing. And you know, B'Elanna, you've been talking about what happened on Tantrum to me right now."

That brought B'Elanna's pacing to a halt. Even in her fury, B'Elanna had to agree with the basic unfairness of that. "So, I won't rip his heart out for talking, then, but the situation is still the same. He doesn't care so much about me that he would want to have to deal with a pregnancy. I'm sure of that!"

"How can you be sure? Did you ever talk to him about having children someday?"

"We never discussed it, no. Well, maybe we did, on Tantrum. But that was only when we talked about how we . . . he was talking about us being Adam and Eve . . . that's a story from an Earth religion, Kes . . . and I said we couldn't, because a human and a Klingon couldn't on their own without technology...and he said he was glad that we couldn't have a child . . . that it was probably a good thing." B'Elanna's voice began to fade out as she recited this to Kes, remembering the context. The Ocampan woman was not fooled. She knew there was more.

"A 'good thing?' Why?"

"Because he said that Tantrum wasn't the garden of Eden - not a very good place to have children, he meant. We didn't have much chance of surviving ourselves for a long time, let alone be able to raise a baby." She fell silent, remembering the rest of the conversation.

"And . . . " Kes added insistently.

"And . . . " B'Elanna sat down on the couch next to Kes. "Nothing. It was nothing. It was a joke."

"What kind of joke?"

"Oh, he was always asking me if our having had sex together meant we were mates. The Klingon way, you know. He said something about that then."

"B'Elanna, how many times has Tom asked you to marry him?"

"I don't know. A few times, I guess."

"Isn't it true that the reason he stopped asking was because you got mad at him for asking you all the time?"

"He was joking with me. I didn't appreciate it."

Kes looked at B'Elanna with exasperation. "How do you know he was joking? I'm sure Tom wouldn't play games with you like that. He jokes around, but not about the really important things. Just talk to him about this. Get his help."

"No, no, no, Kes - I don't want him involved."

"Then take a little more time about it yourself, then. Deciding whether or not to have a child is one of the most important decisions you will ever make - believe me, I know. And for you there's no going back from this decision. A life is involved, and you must make the right choice. For you, for Tom, for the child you are carrying. You mustn't make it without giving it a great deal of thought. You don't want to make a snap decision that you will regret for the rest of your life."

Kes' pleading finally broke through B'Elanna's resolve. Much as she wanted to have this thing over with, she had to agree that giving herself a few extra days to think about it was probably a wise thing to do. Not that she would change her mind, but careful consideration was not out of place.

"All right, Kes. Reschedule the 'procedure' for a week from now instead of three days to give me a little more time to think things through. But I still don't want you to breathe a word of this to Tom. Or to Harry, because that's the same as telling Tom."

"All right, B'Elanna, I promise." As she rose to her feet, Kes swayed a little.

"Are you okay, Kes?"

"I'm fine. This has just been such an emotional conversation."

"You're telling me!" After a short pause, B'Elanna added, "Kes, I do appreciate your coming to me like this. I know you did it because you care for me."

"I'm not the only one, B'Elanna. I want you to know that."

Even though she knew that Lt. Torres was not much for hugging, Kes could not resist giving her one before she walked out of the lieutenant's quarters. Not feeling quite herself, the lieutenant accepted the hug without any fuss.

* * *

The lesson with Tuvok went fairly well. Tom found that meditation as practiced by Vulcans was relaxing and surprisingly enjoyable. The first night, Tuvok instructed him in the clearing of the mind to prepare for meditation and showed Tom several exercises to assist in reaching this goal, including the use of certain breathing techniques. Tuvok also suggested that Tom download a copy of _The Principles of Logic_ by Surak of Vulcan into a padd to study at his leisure.

"I don't need to, Tuvok. I already have a copy in book form that I replicated some time ago."

"You already have a copy? This is quite intriguing. Why did you choose this as a book you wished to keep?"

"I've always been interested in Vulcan philosophy, possibly because it is so foreign to my own nature," admitted Tom.

"But you didn't seem to know anything about T'Hain's _Principles of Poetics."_

"I wasn't interested in poetics, Tuvok. Maybe I should have been," he added, muttering under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Uh, nothing. Weren't we talking about Surak?

"Yes, we were. Have you read _The Principles of Logic, _then, Mr. Paris?"

"A couple of times, yes. I don't pretend to have understood it all, but some of the concepts seem to be truly universal." For about an hour, Tuvok queried Tom on Surak's writings and found that Mr. Paris had, indeed, absorbed a significant portion of the wisdom found in the book. From this starting point, they discussed several other works of philosophy from human, Klingon, Vulcan, and Bajoran sources, about more than a few of which Tom had retained at least a smattering of knowledge.

Tuvok found himself reappraising the helmsman. He had always thought that Mr. Paris was most interested in playing pool and searching for female companions during his off duty hours. Obviously, this was not entirely the case.

When Tuvok shared this insight, Tom laughed. "I'm not saying I haven't been interested in pool and 'feminine companionship.' But I haven't spent all my time in Sandrine's or the Resort, either. That gets pretty boring after a while." The younger man fell silent for a few moments, with the Vulcan receiving the distinct impression that the human was collecting his thoughts before proceeding with more revelations about his true character. "There have also been some times in my life, when pool and women were not options for my 'off duty hours.' Such as when I was a resident of New Zealand, for instance."

"I understand, Mr. Paris. However and whenever you acquired this knowledge, the fact that you have it will certainly facilitate your studies with me, should you decide to pursue them."

With sincerity and directness, Tom addressed the Vulcan lieutenant. "I do want to pursue them. If nothing else, you've helped me tonight when . . . well, Tuvok, I'm sure you realize that tonight was not a good night for me."

Tuvok nodded his understanding. He had been a spectator at an ugly scene.

The two lieutenants agreed to meet every other night for the foreseeable future, duty schedules permitting. Several readings were suggested for Tom to pursue. "I hope these readings will not prove to be too onerous for you, Mr. Paris," stated Tuvok. "I have heard some humans complain that they are 'dull reading.' "

A little of the pilot's sense of humor emerged. "If they are too dull for me, Tuvok, then they'll help put me to sleep. If they aren't too dull, then I'll learn something new. Either way, they should help me with my immediate problem. Thanks." Tom walked towards the exit, then halted suddenly. "Oh, by the way, weren't you going to show me that hologram you have of your family?"

The Vulcan walked to a niche in the wall of his quarters and returned with a disc-shaped object. Pressing on the underside, Tuvok produced the image of a classically handsome Vulcan woman with deep bronze skin. He pressed the underside several more times. The faces of family groupings of what were clearly Tuvok's sons, their wives and their children, plus the visage of a beautiful young Vulcan woman appeared successively, before T'Pel's image was again visible. Tom gazed at the woman's face, then met her husband's eyes, saying simply, "I hope I get to meet your family someday, Tuvok. And I see what you mean about T'Pel's beauty," The Vulcan lieutenant acknowledged the compliment with the barest of nods.

As the Vulcan watched the tall young human retreat down the corridor on his journey back to his own quarters, he reviewed what he had learned of the helmsman during the mind meld that they had shared a few years ago, during a murder investigation. From his recollections of that meld, Tuvok realized that he already should have known that there was much more to Mr. Paris than usually met the eye. He resolved not to underestimate Mr. Paris again.


	11. Coping with the Unexpected

Several times in the ensuing days, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres spent time in the same room together. Usually, it was on the bridge, where Tom performed his duties at the helm while B'Elanna sat at the Engineering station. Neither one spoke with one another, as direct conversation was not needed. All communications went through the commanding officer.

The chief engineer noted unhappily, however, that the helmsman's mood and demeanor on the bridge were on a much more even keel than they had been at any time since the ending of their relationship. Any slim hope she might have harbored that Thomas Eugene Paris still had feelings for her faded as she listened to his calm, "Yes, Captains" and "Aye, Commanders." That a sly "Yes, ma'am" never escaped his lips and that the pilot's usual hint of insouciance was absent from his replies were facts which eluded her.

B'Elanna was too busy pondering her own dilemma to consider that he might have been trying to deal with a broken heart. She was puzzled when she heard that he was spending as much time with Tuvok as with Harry, but Harry's deep involvement with Kes was undoubtedly a factor. As for Tom becoming a friend of Tuvok's, well, there was no accounting for taste.

Off the bridge, they ran into each other twice. The first time was in the mess hall. This time Tom nodded to her but said nothing as he walked past the table she was sharing with Harry and Kes. Tom sat with Megan Delaney and Gerron Tem. The other was a short, uncomfortable trip on the turbolift. Again, Tom acknowledged her presence but said nothing. B'Elanna recalled that their trip in the turbolift after they had returned from the Sakari world began much the same way; but Tom, eager to clear the air between them, had halted the lift and confronted her about what had happened. She did not consider that this time there were three other people on the lift with them.

Since B'Elanna was not telepathic, she also did not perceive that Tom frantically recited two verses of Vulcan philosophical poetry, a psalm from the Bible and several Bajoran proverbs during the course of the trip in an effort to maintain his composure. He was successful. B'Elanna ascribed his detachment to a lack of caring for her, if, indeed, he had ever cared for her at all.

Much as she wanted to believe that she had never meant anything to him, however, her mind turned back to the long days and nights spent on Tantrum IV. She began to remember things about their stay, long talks in the dark, and especially, all those times that he had offered to marry her, when she thought he was just joking with her. Now, she was not so sure.

B'Elanna vacillated between being certain that his treatment of her had been all a game to the idea that she had hurt him so terribly when she had thrust him away that she had killed the love he had professed for her. And he had professed his love, on the planet, and once they had returned to Voyager. She hated to think of what she had said to him that night at Sandrine's, and that tantrum she had thrown in the mess hall the evening she had found out she was pregnant!

B'Elanna knew more surely every day that she must end the pregnancy. There was no future for a child having B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris as her parents. She was sorry that she had promised Kes to wait an entire week before having the procedure completed.

* * *

Warp core problems have a habit of occurring at the most inopportune moments. On the day that B'Elanna Torres was expected in Sickbay at 1933 hours to undergo the procedure for the termination of her pregnancy, the magnetic constrictor couplings froze. A tense several hours were passed in frantic efforts to repair the couplings and in getting the warp core back on line.

Deviating from her usual practice, B'Elanna had not personally performed the warp core repair work, which carried a risk of exposure to radiation. Reasoning that her bouts of vertigo might interfere with the completion of the task, she sent Mr. Carey and Ensign Ashmore to complete the repairs in her stead. The chief engineer remained in her well-shielded office, coordinating the repairs. She was still busy with her final report to the captain when she was hailed.

"Torres here."

_:::Lieutenant, it is now 2253 hours. Don't you recall that we had an appointment this evening at 1933 hours?:::_

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I've been so busy I forgot it. I'm afraid that I won't be coming tonight at all. I have things to do here that can't wait."

_:::Will you reschedule the appointment, then?:::_

"Yes, the same time as tonight, but three days from now."

_:::I will be here.:::_ The EMH turned off his communicator, noting that rather than rescheduling the appointment for the following day, as he might have expected of her, she had set it for three days in the future. Since this was a procedure he did not particularly wish to perform, the Doctor did not care how long the lieutenant chose to postpone it.

* * *

Only one figure remained in Neelix's mess hall at 1430 hours ship's time the next afternoon. Lt. Torres, as usual, was absorbed in her work. Several data padds were scattered around the booth where she was sitting while she finished her midday meal. Not that Neelix minded late diners that much usually, but he had promised Lt. Tuvok that he would do an inventory of the condition of the phasers in the locker on Deck Six, Section 3, and he did not wish to be late. As it was, time would be short before he had to be back in his galley preparing dinner.

"You don't need anything else at the moment, do you, Lieutenant? I have some duties to perform for Mr. Vulcan."

"I'm fine, Neelix. I'll be finishing up here in a few minutes." She raised her glass of prune juice to take another sip. Neelix was a little surprised that Lt. Torres was replicating so much prune juice lately, but she seemed to have lost her taste for the raktajino that she previously had favored.

As he hustled out of the door, he could see the lieutenant was still absorbed in her work. Her professionalism was impressive.

* * *

An hour later when Neelix returned to the mess hall, he noticed that one data padd was lying on the seat where Lt. Torres had been sitting, and a second had fallen on the floor. It certainly was not a wonder that she had forgotten them, considering how many she had had with her. Neelix stooped down to pick up both of them. He was about to hail the engineer when he thought it might be better to check what data they contained. There was a slight possibility that an earlier diner had left them. Lt. Torres would be quite upset if he bothered her unnecessarily; she had been notably quick to anger recently. Many of her subordinates had mentioned that to him in passing when the Talaxian had struck up conversations with them. It was one of his responsibilities as morale officer, after all.

Neelix turned on the first data padd. It was titled _Honor's Path: Raising the Klingon Child in the Traditional Way_. Neelix was glad that it was in Federation Standard and not Klingon. He was proud of his increasing fluency in Standard, but he had not been able to learn any Klingon at all, as of yet. Of course, if they never got back to the Alpha Quadrant, he would not need to know Klingon any more than the rest of the crew needed to know Talaxian. Neelix pressed the on button for the second padd and read, _The First Twelve Months of Human Life_. Neelix was surprised; he had not realized that Lt. Torres had had any interest in child development.

Suddenly, Neelix stood up abruptly. No, it was not at all surprising, if he really thought about it. What had happened not long ago in this very mess hall - that awful scene with Lt. Paris - no one had been able to explain it to him; but now, her reaction to seeing Tom Paris did not seem very odd to Neelix at all. He was shocked. Neelix would never have thought that Tom Paris could be so cavalier. Then again, perhaps Tom had an explanation for his behavior. This situation appeared to need the investigative savvy he had been acquiring as the host of _A Briefing with Neelix_. He just had to find Tom and find out what he had to say. Turning around to begin his search, Neelix found himself face to face with Lt. Torres.

"You may need to rethink your plans about becoming a security guard, Neelix. If I'd had any evil intent, you'd be a dead man right now." The lieutenant was smiling when she said this, but she stopped smiling when she saw that the padds he was holding in his hand were operating. Wordlessly, Lt. Torres held out her hand. Neelix handed her padds back to her. From the seething glare boring into him as she switched them off, Neelix was relatively sure that saying anything at the moment would not be in his own best interests - not that such a trivial item as self-interest was important at a time like this.

"Lieutenant, if there is anything I can do . . . "

"Nothing, Neelix."

"Lt. Paris would . . . ."

"If anyone at all hears about this, you're liable to find yourself floating in space. Without an EV suit. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly, Lieutenant. But if Lt. Paris is being a cad about this, the captain . . . "

"No one_, _Neelix. _NO ONE AT ALL._"

"Understood."

As the lieutenant barreled out of his mess hall, Neelix sat down at the booth that lately had been occupied by Lt. Torres. Tom wasn't being a cad after all; he obviously didn't know. Neelix wondered if there was some way he could inform his friend of the facts without getting himself spaced.

* * *

B'Elanna lay sprawled on her couch, half asleep, the padds that Neelix had returned to her just two of the many scattered on the floor in front of her. She shook herself awake. The padds must have landed on the floor when she started to drift off to sleep. This lassitude was upsetting, even though the pregnancy texts all stated that fatigue was a very common symptom of pregnancy. Fatigue equaled weakness in B'Elanna's mind, and she hated being weak. Yet, a voice was echoing in her head, accusing her of being weaker in spirit than body by thrusting away someone who had shown he had cared for her; by not facing that someone and confessing the truth.

B'Elanna imagined what he would look like if she told him that he had fathered a child. Would he be upset? Angry? No, she doubted that. More than likely Tom would don that self-satisfied smirk of his with this proof of his virility; he would undoubtedly strut around and spread the news all over the ship. The fragile ego of Tom Paris, which she had done such an excellent job of trashing, would get a much needed boost. But how would he feel about her? She could no longer say.

She berated herself. Torres, who's made a mess of things. Warp coils, fine. Torres knows how to make them hum to absolute peak efficiency, but let her near anything resembling a being with feelings to be hurt, and she'll find a way to do it. And Tom Paris certainly had feelings, even if he did always try to hide them behind that ridiculous "I Don't Care Anyway" mask of his. Any love Tom might have once felt for her, she was sure, had been smashed to smithereens.

The engineer looked down at the padds on the floor. Technical manuals, to be sure, but of a very different type than the ones she was used to reading: not ways of achieving efficiency goals and teaching junior officers the tricks of the engineer's trade, but the kind that had as their focus the raising of a healthy, happy child. 'I wonder how many of these Mother ever bothered to read?' thought B'Elanna. She wasn't sure why she was reading them. What was the point? She was going to get rid of the child.

B'Elanna's stomachs churned. She did not like thinking about that. Getting rid of the child. It sounded so much uglier than "termination of pregnancy."

A hail from the captain saved her from any further thoughts about this extremely unpleasant topic.

* * *

"Captain, you wanted to see me." B'Elanna walked into the Captain's ready room. Tom Paris was sitting in one of the chairs. A cool nod from him was his only greeting.

"Yes, Lieutenant, sit down. I wanted to talk to you about a mission we need to undertake. You recall those dilithium crystals that you mined with Lt. Paris?"

As if she could ever forget them. "Yes, Captain."

"We have been contacted by the Telteskor Trading Coalition. It seems they are very interested in trading for some of them. They have pergium, coradisium, and small amounts of other rare materials that we need. Here is the complete list." The captain handed her a data padd, which B'Elanna quickly reviewed. "Voyager's direct path to the Verdiliak's world is in a very different direction from the present location of these traders, and we need the supplies the Verdiliak are offering us as well. The Telteskor have proposed that we send a shuttlecraft to meet them at a nearby Traveler's outpost close to where they have some representatives stationed. The materials they are offering are not very bulky, and a two person team should be able to complete the task without overburdening the shuttle with too much mass on the return trip. Lt. Paris has already agreed to pilot the shuttle, Lieutenant. I'd like you to assign one of your engineers to go with him."

"Of course, Captain. I'll go myself."

There was an awkward silence. "Are you sure, Lieutenant?"

"Captain, some of the materials on this list can easily become contaminated when stored for any length of time. Sending a more junior officer seems too risky to me. We don't know much about these traders. I would prefer to be able to test the materials myself to make sure that they are all that they are purported to be."

"Mr. Paris, are you still interested in going on this trip? I can always assign another pilot."

"I don't anticipate any problems with the mission, Captain."

The captain looked from one lieutenant to another. It was time to be completely candid with both of them. "Lt. Torres, Lt. Paris, I had heard that your . . . friendship . . . was not what it once was. This mission will involve spending about four days in transit in addition to whatever time you need to complete the business at the outpost, away from any of your fellow crewmen. Are you sure you are ready for this?"

"We are both professionals, Captain," said B'Elanna.

Tom nodded in agreement. "It's time that we put any past awkwardness behind us, Captain. We can handle this. No problem."

Captain Janeway looked at the two of them. To her they both appeared to be so vulnerable right now, but it was true that she needed her senior staff to be able to work together. So far, despite a certain amount of tentativeness, there had been no sign that the two could not work together. Perhaps it was time to demonstrate to herself as well as both of them that the end of their personal relationship would not interfere with their professional duties. "All right, it's settled then. Plan to leave tomorrow at 0900 hours. Dismissed."

Had Captain Janeway been able to read the minds of her two lieutenants, she would not have been quite so sanguine about sending them off together, despite their assurances. The helmsman stopped by the security station on the bridge to talk to Tuvok on his way back to the conn, arranging to meet with the Vulcan for dinner and for a lesson in meditation afterwards to prepare himself mentally for the task.

As the chief engineer left, she tried very hard not to think of anything at all.

* * *

As B'Elanna packed, she tried to keep her mind devoid of any thoughts about the upcoming mission, but it was hopeless. Carey could do it just as well. Why not ask Joe Carey to do it? Even Vorik or Nicoletti could handle it. B'Elanna knew that had Tom assigned another pilot to the mission, she would probably have assigned one of her subordinates to go, admonishing them sternly to test every one of the trade items for purity. She did not want to think about why she had to be the one to go along with Tom.

Tucking the last of the clothing she was taking into her bag, B'Elanna responded, "Enter," to her door signal as it was activated.

"Hello, B'Elanna. What are you doing?" Kes greeted B'Elanna with her usual mild and friendly manner as she surveyed the state of the engineer's quarters. Usually neat to the extreme, the sleeping area was cluttered today.

"Packing for an away mission."

"Oh? What mission?"

"Kes, knowing your abilities, I imagine you could have told me that before I went to see the Captain."

Caught, Kes laughed musically. "I did hear you were going on a trading expedition. Is it true - you're going with Tom?"

"Yes."

"A week ago you didn't even want to have dinner with him.

"Duty calls, Kes. We have to get back to normal."

"So what is 'normal.' Are you going to be having a baby, or not?"

B'Elanna hesitated. "I'm still not sure what to do about the baby." She sighed as she sat at the end of her bed. "I've been turning it over and over in my mind, and no matter what, I can't seem to say yes, or no, for that matter."

"You're supposed to have your procedure the day after tomorrow, aren't you?"

B'Elanna nodded. "I'm just going to postpone it again. I won't cancel yet, until I know for sure what I want to do about it."

"You might as well just cancel it. I know you will eventually. Why torture yourself? Just accept that B'Elanna Torres is going to be a mother, and a wonderful one, at that."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. So patient and loving."

"You will be, you watch." Kes suddenly swayed a little.

"Are you okay, Kes? You look unsteady on your feet"

"It's nothing, B'Elanna."

"You're not going through your Elogium, are you?"

Chagrined, Kes said, "Everyone keeps asking me that. Until you see me eating everything in sight, dirt, bugs, and all, you'll know it hasn't started yet. Harry can breathe easy for a while yet. I've lost a couple of pounds, and I guess I need to put them back on, that's all."

They laughed together, pushing away for the moment the deadly serious topic that Kes had arrived to discuss, but she did not leave it for long. "I really don't mean to push you, but you know that your decision must be the right one or you'll always regret it."

"I know, I know, Kes. We've been over this before. It's just that I can . . . .Kes, what's the matter?" The Ocampan woman had suddenly turned her attention to a spot past B'Elanna's shoulder and looked as if she were stunned by something that she saw there.

Turning to look in the direction Kes was staring, B'Elanna at first saw nothing but the empty doorway to her bathroom. She walked nearer when she realized that an indistinct shape was coming into existence before her. A dim memory from her childhood suddenly popped into her head, and without thinking, B'Elanna cried out. "_qa'Dol,_" naming a kind of Klingon spirit or entity which had been the subject of many stories that her mother had told her when she was a child.

She was about to hit her comm badge to signal an intruder alert when Kes moved in front of the apparition and cried, "Father!" B'Elanna was shocked; she knew that Kes' father Benaren had died before she had climbed out of the underground refuge on her home world to the planet's desolate surface. Only the sight of Kes' blissful face as she regarded the apparition stopped B'Elanna from alerting Security.

For several minutes the small figure of Kes stood in front of the mysterious image of what was now recognizably that of a slender Ocampan man of middling height and age. The ghostly form was as transparent as a doubled image on a poorly-tuned viewscreen. No words were spoken aloud by Kes or the vision, yet B'Elanna realized that some type of communication was taking place. A multitude of expressions flitted swiftly across Kes' face, and eventually, the half-human, half-Klingon engineer became conscious of a sensation like the buzzing of many quiet insects in her ears, or was it inside her head?

How long they all stood there in the throes of supernatural communion B'Elanna could not say, but finally the vision appeared to expand and dissipate into nothingness, drifting away as a morning fog is burnt away by the sun. As the _qa'Dol_ vanished, Kes' eyes rolled back in her head and, slowly and deliberately, as if an unknown presence was breaking her fall, she slumped slowly downward. Before Kes had fully reached the floor, B'Elanna was there to catch her. The engineer was surprised at how light Kes was, she seemed as light as a child in B'Elanna's arms.

"Torres to Transporter Room One. Emergency beam out of two to Sickbay from my quarter . . . ."

"No! B'Elanna!" Kes' voice was surprisingly strong, even though her eyes were still closed. "No transport now. I don't know what it will do to me. Call Harry."

"Transporter Room, stand down." As B'Elanna pulled her up to a standing position, Kes opened her eyes again. "I can carry you and we'll meet Harry in your quarters."

"You might hurt the baby if you carry me!"

"Your weight is nothing to me, Kes. You've gotten so light, and my Klingon half makes me strong. Besides, if something does happen to the baby from carrying you, at least I wouldn't be constantly agonizing over what to do about it anymore."

"Please call Harry. I want your baby to be safe, and I need to get back to my quarters. I need to go home." Her large blue eyes filled with tears. "Please. And call the captain and Chakotay, Tom, the Doctor, Tuvok, and Neelix, especially Neelix. I need you all with me now. I have things I must say, and there's hardly any time."

A chill came over her as B'Elanna understood Kes. The weakness, the light headedness that she knew had been plaguing Kes. Was it more serious than she'd let on? Nodding her head, B'Elanna tapped her comm badge.

_:::Torres to Kim . . . :::_

* * *

Gently, Harry laid Kes on their couch as B'Elanna ran into the bedroom to retrieve a couple of pillows to prop up her friend. The ease with which Harry had carried Kes from B'Elanna's quarters to their own disturbed him greatly; in playful games he had lifted her up and carried her around their quarters as they had laughed hysterically. She had always seemed so fragile and light in his arms, yet never so light as this.

Before he had fully spread the blanket he had filched from their bed, the Doctor and Captain Janeway had arrived, with Seven-of-Nine in tow. Tuvok and Tom arrived together. The Vulcan bore his usual calm demeanor; but Tom was upset, unable to maintain the reserved air that he had been assuming of late. Commander Chakotay arrived just before Neelix swirled in, crying out "Sweeting! What is happening to you!" as if he were still the lover to Kes that he had been when they first came on board Voyager.

If Harry was disturbed by Neelix's effusiveness, he hid it well. His concern now was all for his Kes as he settled down next to her on the couch, his arm in a protective embrace around her shoulders. Accepting Neelix's outpouring of affection by quickly grasping his hands, Kes directed the Talaxian to sit on the other side of her. "Is there anything we can get you," asked Harry.

"No, there's no more time for me. Just stay close while I explain." The look on her face was composed but sorrowful, hinting of a wisdom far beyond the few years she had lived. Incredibly far beyond her years, since Kes was not yet four.

The Doctor had been scanning Kes with his medical tricorder during the gathering of the senior staff, Kes' good friends on Voyager. As he was visibly startled by the readings, the captain asked the Doctor what was wrong.

"Captain, I cannot begin to explain it, but Kes has lost 25% of her body mass since I checked her for dizziness only two days ago. She doesn't look any different, but she is profoundly changed."

"I noticed it, too," added Harry. "She was so light when I carried her in from B'Elanna's just now."

B'Elanna started to confirm it also, remembering the fall in her quarters, but Kes silenced them. "Yes, I am lighter, and I will continue to get lighter until I am less than the - what did you call it, B'Elanna?"

"The _qa'Dol_, the spirit entity. What humans call a ghost."

"Well, I think I will use the Vulcan term _katra, _if you don't mind, Tuvok. I think it is closer to what is happening to me. I have come to my Morelogium. My life with you all is coming to an end."

Even Tuvok's face showed a trace of confusion as Kes went on, "You may think I am crazy, but my father came to tell me. B'Elanna saw him." All eyes turned to B'Elanna, who had to affirm Kes' statement.

"I did see something, a shimmering, a spirit, the outline of an Ocampan man. I should have sounded the intruder alert and gotten my tricorder, I know, but . . . "

Kes smiled at that. "No, B'Elanna, it doesn't matter. I can explain. The Kazon and other races have called the Ocampa weak and insubstantial because they only live nine years. Well, 'insubstantial' is right. We live here, where we can be seen and touched by you, for only nine years. Then we are transformed to a new level of existence, into a noncorporeal life form - a little like the Organians that I have read about must be like. I don't think there is a name in Ocampa for what we become. We don't even really know about it until the time comes, when our guide leads us on, but I guess we must all suspect it - my people never say that we 'die' when we came to the Morelogium. They always say, 'pass on.' I thought it was a euphemism, the way humans use the term. Now I know, my father told me. That is what really happens: we 'pass on' to another state of being."

Harry spoke softly. "Honey, if the Ocampa change to another level of existence, how can your father have told you."

She turned so that she was more completely in his arms and smiled up into his face. "He was able to take on enough of a form to be seen and heard by me. He will guide me to what will come next. Harry, we don't live as long as the Q, but we do live for centuries in this other form until our . . . our _katra_ is finally released into eternity. I will be with you, near you. But I won't be able to be heard, or be seen, or be able to bear your children, Harry, as I was meant to! It was all changed, and I have no time now to do all that I was meant to do."

"Kes," said Captain Janeway. "You have not lived nine years. You aren't even four yet. How can this be happening now?"

"Remember when I had the chronoton poisoning, Captain? I know you weren't sure of my story then, about living another life and then coming backwards through it, but it really did happen. It was never supposed to happen that way - we were supposed to meet the Borg and Species 8472, and live as we have now. And Harry . . . ." Kes looked at her husband again with tears in her eyes. "I would have had my Elogium, and we would have had children, Harry. Twins. A boy and a girl, Andrew and Linnis. You would have had them to be with you when I was gone. But now that can't happen. I'm sorry Harry." Finally losing her composure, Kes sobbed for a few minutes as the tears spilling out of her eyes matched those brimming out of Harry's.

Resolutely, Kes caught her breath again. "It was changed, Captain, when the ship was doubled. When the Morelogium comes, the _katra_ learns from his own guide of the future life of the one that he or she must guide. They follow that life until they have brought that soul into this new kind of existence, and then they are free to go anywhere, be anywhere, or even anywhen, for that matter. My father was with me the entire time when the Kazon had me. And when I met you, Neelix." She smiled at the Talaxian, who tried to return her smile but could not in his own grief. "Captain, he was here when I came on board with you, and when that strange Elogium almost happened. But we were separated when the ship was doubled, and the other Voyager was destroyed. He doesn't know if he just followed the wrong Voyager's reality, or if the wrong Voyager survived somehow.

"It doesn't matter now. We must have followed the path of that other Voyager, and we met the Krenim instead of the Borg. So many people died. And I - I led another life, not with Harry as my husband, but with another - because his true love had been killed by the Krenim." Kes tried not to look at Tom and B'Elanna or Captain Janeway, but she could not help herself. Tom's eyes were clouded with tears; he was looking down and did not see; but B'Elanna saw, as did the captain.

"I don't know if the chronotons changed me, or if the biotemporal chamber did. Father had not been able to find me, so maybe it was because I did not have a guide . . . ." Kes sighed in frustration. "That doesn't matter either, I guess. Instead of passing on, I jumped back in time, all the way back to before I was born. When the Doctor and B'Elanna and Captain Janeway treated me, they brought my life back to the way it was supposed to be. I knew what changes had to be made so we did not meet the Krenim. We met the Borg instead." Kes looked at Seven-of-Nine, who was standing impassively by the door, not really knowing what to make of this strange gathering or this humanoid's confession.

"Except now, I have no time to have my children. My _katra_ has lived almost ten years, and I must go now, even if my body is still young. Harry, I'm sorry. So sorry." Kes broke down completely then, with Harry holding her close to him, stroking her cloud of golden hair, murmuring that it was all right, all right to cry, as his own face showed plainly the grief he was feeling.

As she gave vent to her emotions, the Doctor took another reading. In a soft voice for the captain's and commander's ears, he confirmed that Kes' loss of mass was now at 29% and continuing. The powerful yet delicate _katra_ of Kes was losing the body in which it had been housed. She did not have much time left.

When she was again able to speak, Kes said, "I want to say goodbye to each of you. Then I want to spend what time I have left here with Harry. Alone with Harry. Please understand. There is much I would love to be able to share with you. I can't, but if I have time, I will tell Harry some things I remember to help you. You must _NOT_ meet the Krenim, whatever you do! I don't know what will happen to some people this time, because I won't be here to help them if that happens."

The captain met the steady, solemn gaze of Commander Chakotay. If anyone understood the ways of spirits and of guides to the spirit realm, he did. For the first time since their estrangement, there was no hint of recrimination, no desire to hide from each other when their eyes met. She saw that he had no doubts of the veracity of Kes' story, but the captain still had one question she had to ask. "Kes, you know that alien that tried to take me away, this isn't some trick like that, is it?"

"No, Captain, I'm sure. As soon as I heard it, I knew that it was something that I have always known. I just needed someone to remind me of it. I can't explain it any better than that. Do you know what I mean, Tuvok?"

"Yes, I do Kes. It seems that I, too, have shared this sensation of expectancy, even though I did not recognize it for what it was. Captain, we have always known that Kes possesses powers that none of us understand. Now that I have heard her explanation, I realize that Kes' use of the term _katra_ may well be accurate. Vulcans must have their life essence transported for safekeeping to Mount Seleya, but this does not mean that this must be true of every race. The Organians are an example of noncorporeal beings that are not tied to one place, but to an entire sector of space. We have no reason to doubt Kes."

In a voice even lower and huskier than usual, Captain Janeway responded, "Then I must accept this, too, much as I would prefer not to. I wish there were more time for us to be with you, Kes." The captain reached out to Kes and embraced her in farewell.

Kes whispered only a brief sentence to her captain. "Mother Janeway, you were both right; you must forgive him, and he must forgive you." The captain of Voyager was a strong woman, and she had lost members of her crew before without flinching visibly. This was different. Blue-gray eyes overflowed with tears as the captain of Voyager stepped back, allowing her first officer to step forward.

"Commander Chakotay, Spirit Guide," she smiled, and then Kes said virtually the same thing to him that she had said to the captain. Chakotay took her hands in his, holding them for several seconds before making way for the security chief.

Tuvok did not say any words to Kes, nor did she to him, but he held up his first two fingers straight up and together. Kes' fingers copied this gesture. With the most ephemeral of touches, they crossed their paired fingers in the contact that the touch-telepathic Vulcans consider to be as intense and intimate as a kiss. Thoughts may have passed between the two of them as their fingers grazed each other's, but this would neither be confirmed nor denied by Tuvok afterward.

B'Elanna did not mind the fierce hug she shared with Kes, who said so softly into B'Elanna's ear that no one could hear but the engineer, "Take care of yourself and your little one, B'Elanna, and don't be afraid to let Tom in. You can trust him." When B'Elanna stepped away from her, she stumbled and brushed against Tom, unable to see his approach because her vision was momentarily obscured.

Tom enveloped Kes close to him, golden head near golden head. As he leaned back so that he could look at her face, Kes touched his cheek with her fingertips. "In another life, Tom, I told you that you would be happy again, even though you didn't believe it when I said it to you. I know that it is true in this life, too. Don't hide yourself away again. And Tom," bending down to his ear and adding almost inaudibly, "Take care of him." He tried to form one of his Paris smiles for her, but he was only half successful. Raising his hand, he returned her touch, gently grazing her cheek with his fingers, and nodded his acceptance of the responsibility she was giving him.

The Doctor stood before his assistant as she told him, "You are more human every day, and you will grow even more, I know. Enjoy your family, Doctor."

Not knowing Kes well, the young Borg woman stood quietly in the back of the others and started when Kes called out to her. "Seven-of-Nine, you will find yourself welcomed here as I was. They will help you find out who you really are."

Kes at last turned to Neelix, drained physically and emotionally, but the Talaxian surprised her. As he had watched the others come up to Kes, he had had enough time to bring his own emotions under control. Catching up her hands in his, he kissed them before kissing her on her forehead. "I will always love you, Sweeting," Neelix said, then said something else that the Universal Translator did not translate. Kes understood, however, and this time it was Kes who had no words to say.

Good-byes said to all but one, looking around at the faces she loved, Kes found it hard to say anything more. Finally, she found her voice. "I will never forget you, and I hope you won't forget me. Safe journey to all of you."

The senior staff of the starship USS Voyager filed out of the quarters. Neelix, Tuvok, and Tom left only as far as the corridor to stand vigil until it was all over, when Harry would emerge. The Doctor went back to Sickbay to consider all that his slight, wise, and beautiful assistant had taught him about being a physician. Seven-of-Nine accompanied Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay back to the bridge. B'Elanna had already escaped to her quarters, to whatever private vigil she might be holding for the closest female friend that she had ever had.

* * *

As the door closed them away from their friends, Kes had a simple request. "Harry, I want to hold you close until I can't anymore. Take me to bed." Harry lifted her up effortlessly and brought her to the bedroom, carrying the pillows and blanket along with Kes without any trouble since her weight had already become a third of what it had been. Because Kes seemed so fragile, Harry was reluctant, at first, to touch her, but gentle kisses turned passionate, and in an accord that required no words, they helped each other to make love for the last time together.

Afterwards, with Kes resting so lightly on his chest and in his arms that she might already have been the dream of a lover instead of one in fading flesh, Harry listened as Kes quietly told him of the other timeline when the "Year of Hell" had warped their lives: of Linnis, who had been Harry's wife, not daughter, and of Andrew, who had been their son. Kes reflected, "Is there some kind of flowing together of time streams that happens, I wonder? The way a rock in the middle of a stream parts the waters only until the current is past the rock, which then swirl together again. In both time lines, Andrew is your son. I think a break in the timeline may try to heal itself if it can, Harry. Perhaps you will still be blessed with a Linnis or an Andrew. I hope so."

"It won't be the same without you being their mother, Kes." The touch of his lips on her brow was feathery but passionate. "I love you so much."

As Harry held her close he tried not to think about life without her, but then a stray thought fluttered into his head. He knew he needed the answer to one question. "Kes, you said that when your _katra_ passes on, you learn who you will guide. Does that mean you have someone you must guide?"

She shook her head, and when he looked down at her, he could see the tears flowing again. "There were to have been two," she murmured.

"Linnis and Andrew." He knew he did not need to hear her answer.

"Yes." Closing his eyes tightly, Harry rocked her in his arms until her shoulders stopped shaking.

When Harry again gazed upon his Kes' face, it seemed that she was even less substantial than she had been a few minute before, and he truly understood the term will-o-the-wisp. Her lovely blue eyes were glowing even more brightly as the rest of her body was ebbing away.

While she still had the strength, she spoke to him again. "Harry, I love you and I want you to know that since there is no one else I need to guide, I will be here with you, even if you can't see me. But there is one thing you must promise me . . . ."

"Anything," he breathed in a husky whisper.

"Don't grieve for me. Not in the way you did when you were separated from Libby. Don't stop living your life. Promise me. Look for another love, because you deserve one. Harry Kim, you are the finest man I could ever have hoped to meet, even if you did have to come all the way across the galaxy to do it. I am so grateful to have been with you, even for such a short time. Please, be happy." As she uttered the last words, Kes' voice was so low and soft that it was more like the barest echo of a voice, rather than the one he had learned to love hearing.

Sighing, Harry held her fading form close, and promised, whispering a few times more of his love for her, but soon they both fell silent, without any need to say anything else. All that either felt needed to be said already had been shared with the other.

When Kes had first told everyone about what was happening to her, Harry had visualized seeing her internal organs appearing grotesquely in his arms as she grew more and more transparent. He had steeled himself for the possibility of that sight if it had be, so that he would be able to bear it without upsetting her. Instead, the loss of mass must have begun far inside her body, rendering the inside invisible before the face, skin, or outline of her limbs became first translucent, then transparent, and at last an amorphous glowing cloud that briefly retained a Kes shape to hold up the blanket that covered their bodies. In the end it all happened gradually. Even after Harry was unable to detect any sight of Kes for several minutes, the outline of her shape and the incredibly soft, dainty touch of her body lying against his were still perceptible. Finally, in the slowest of motions, the blanket settled gently down over Harry's legs and body, as if a slight breeze had bellied the cover up and over before allowing it to fall of its own weight over him.

For a long time, Harry Kim continued to lie in the bed he had shared with her, in mingled sorrow and gratitude, savoring the memory of his brief life with Kes.


	12. Goodbye, Gentle Friend

The reappearance of captain and commander on the bridge during Beta shift, ordering Ensign Lang to log a sensor record of all the life forms and their respective masses in the quarters known to belong to Kes and Harry Kim, was the first sign to the crew at large that something of import was occurring. The second was the order for a multi-phasic scan, which revealed a slight phase distortion in the same cabin. The Beta shift bridge crew went about their tasks with a minimum of discussion after that. When Ensign Lang reported that the life form readings had dropped to one, with a complete loss of mass for one of the life forms, Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay shared the kind of look that had been missing from the bridge for several weeks, and an even greater hush fell upon the bridge crew.

"Is the multi-phasic scan showing anything, Ensign?"

"Yes, Captain. Now there seem to be two areas of distortion. Do you want me to do anything about it?"

"Just keep me informed if there is any change in the distortions, Ensign." A look of mourning already on her face, Janeway turned to her first officer. "So, Commander, what do we do? A service?"

He thought a moment. "It would be better to provide closure for the crew. At noon?" The captain of Voyager acquiesced, then hesitated only slightly before ordering an open comm line throughout the ship. The captain and the commander took their feet, with Seven-of-Nine standing behind them, where she had stayed since they had all arrived at the bridge.

In a steady voice, the captain intoned, "We have lost one of our own tonight. Kes has passed on to another kind of existence. She says it is not a death, but I am not sure that most of us will be able to make that fine a distinction. We will never see her again. There will be a brief service tomorrow on Holodeck One at 1200 hours, where anyone who wishes to remember her will gather. Janeway out."

* * *

Tom, Tuvok, and Neelix stood for over three hours in the corridor, awaiting Harry's reappearance. Neelix was despondent, and Tom was only a little less so. Tuvok's face was expressionless, but Tom, when he glanced over at him, did not get that sense of imperturbability that the Vulcan usually exuded. A few crewmen passed by, but if they wondered what three of Voyager's senior officers were doing hanging outside of the quarters shared by the operations officer and the Doctor's assistant, they said nothing.

After the captain's announcement, many more people walked by, some stopping to speak with the officers and each other in hushed tones for short stretches of time before moving on. Gerron and the Delaney sisters stayed, however, as Gerron took a place by the door of Kes' and Harry's quarters, reciting a Bajoran chant in an almost inaudible voice as Megan and her sister Jenny stood next to him.

Gerron was still in the midst of his chant when Harry, his dry eyes empty of the spark of humor that they usually seemed to contain, opened the door and stepped outside of his quarters. Tom embraced him briefly, in turn Jenny and Megan also put out their arms to embrace the Ensign; but it was to Neelix that Harry finally turned. "It was peaceful, Neelix. She was . . . accepting. And she says she will stay here, to watch over us, even though we can't see her."

A subdued Neelix accepted this with unexpected reserve. "I expected something like that. She was so wonderful. Harry, did you hear the captain's announcement?"

"Yes, I did. Neelix, I was wondering if there is anything you'll want to say tomorrow."

"Of course. Do you want to come to my quarters and discuss if for a while?"

Harry looked at Tom, who waved him on with understanding. For Harry to stay in his quarters tonight would be a burden, and Neelix was probably the best person for him to be with at this time. As the two men who had been closest to Kes in her short life walked to Neelix's quarters, Gerron's mellow voice softly chanted in the background, with Megan and Jenny, now arm and arm and fighting back tears, continuing their show of support behind him.

Tom turned to his Vulcan meditation instructor, pitching his voice low so he would not disturb Gerron in his self-appointed task. "Tuvok, for a long time all of us skeptical Starfleet types have been using terms like 'spatial anomalies' and 'noncorporeal life forms' to explain away beings that are beyond our 'current understanding.' It's as if by giving something a specialized scientific term, we can bring everything we don't understand into focus as science, make it all factual. As long as it all seems to fit some theory, we don't have to think about whether that something can also be described in spiritual terms, like 'soul,' for instance ."

"It is logical to try to impose order on the universe, Mr. Paris."

"But is it logical to label a faith like Gerron's as superstition, when the scientific explanations sound more like magic than fact themselves? We know that the beings that created the Bajoran wormhole have an awareness of time that is far outside our usual comprehension of it; the evidence is irrefutable. The Vulcan concept of the _katra _has been ridiculed as 'Vulcan mumbo-jumbo' - I've heard some of the admirals talk, Tuvok, joking about what they don't understand. But now I'm thinking, if telepathic species like Vulcans and the Ocampa can sense the noncorporeal essence that lingers after the body's death, is it really so far-fetched that just maybe the same thing happens with other beings, who simply are too blind telepathically to be able to sense it, as your people do?"

"I do not know, Mr. Paris. There do seem to be some concepts which are, after all, beyond the understanding of finite beings such as ourselves."

Gerron finished chanting. Bowing towards the chamber that was now empty of life forms as Starfleet knew them, he turned to go, with Megan and Jenny each taking one of his arms. As they passed by the senior officers, Tom was asking the Vulcan rhetorically, "How can we understand what is beyond understanding, Tuvok?"

Tuvok did not appear to have an answer, but as he and the Delaney sisters passed by, Gerron supplied one: "Faith."

* * *

B'Elanna could not sleep. Her thoughts kept returning to Kes, who would never hold her own child in her arms. Once she had heard the captain's message and knew that it was all over, B'Elanna was reminded of the way she had felt when she was five years old, when her father had left her family. For the first time since her human half had been comforted by Tom in the Vidiian mines, tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

Sorrow turned inevitably to anger. "Kes, if you really are hanging around here, I wish you'd tell me what to do. Nothing in my life has ever confused me the way this baby has!" B'Elanna raged.

Flopping around to a new position in her bed, a new thought struck B'Elanna, who mused into empty air, to a spirit that might or might not be there, "Funny, I don't even know when she became 'this baby,' instead of a pregnancy waiting to be terminated." B'Elanna brooded some more before again addressing the unseeable. "You always knew, didn't you, that if I started to think about a little girl growing inside my body, waiting to be born, I wouldn't be able to go through with that 'procedure.' Kes, I don't know how I'm going to do it by myself and be chief engineer at the same time!" She sighed. "I guess I'll just have to figure out a way.

"You know, Neelix knows about the baby, Kes, it's only going be a matter of time before he spills it all over the ship. I have to talk to Tom before the rest of the crew hears, he'll be so hurt if he finds out any other way, but how? Just blurt it out? Should I seek him out and tell him now, when he's hurting so about you? 'Oh, hello, Tom, too bad about Kes, and by the way, I'm pregnant with your child. Thought you should know.' "

B'Elanna could imagine Tom holding his own child in his arms. She had seen him with Sam Wildman's little girl. Tom often did that thing so many men liked to do, tossing Tabitha into the air, prompting delighted squeals of laughter from her, yet Tom seemed to like being around the child for her own sake, too. She had seen him cuddling the child in his arms.

B'Elanna closed her eyes and visualized his golden head bent over Tabitha's small one, the big but gentle hands supporting the little girl in his arms, gently stroking the small head - except the small head she was imagining no longer belonged to a human-Ktarian child, but to another who had the suggestion of Klingon ridges across her brow, a lithe but sturdy, one-quarter-Klingon, three-quarter-human child. Someone Tom could guide through life with all of his hard-won stories. Somehow he always seemed to come up with the one you needed to hear, like that one he'd told her when they were the captives of the Vidiians, about covering up his head with a hat when his father forced him to have his hair shorn in the summer. Such a simple tale, really, but it had comforted her when her human self was sick and in a panic from having her Klingon self ripped away from the rest of her. That was the first time she had seen the gentle side of Tom Paris - the antithesis of the playboy pig he had been pretending to be.

Sleep was not going to come tonight, no matter how much she needed it. Giving up the attempt, B'Elanna arose from her bed. She walked to the window in her quarters to watch the illusion that the streaming stars were flowing by her, even though B'Elanna was perfectly aware that it was Voyager that was plowing through the Delta Quadrant, past the stars that moved on their own trails in the icy cold of space. Voyager hurtled by so unimaginably fast in relation to someone standing on a planet's surface, yet so slowly when viewed from a vantage point outside the galaxy, that Voyager might look as if it were drifting toward the Alpha Quadrant instead of traveling at warp speeds.

Drifting. Golden hair, or is it golden aura? Icy. Trail. Streams. Gentle, gentle as the deer you have tamed. B'Elanna hurried to her computer station to look up the poem whose fragments were floating around in her memory, the poem that Tom had offered to her in their den, and which she had rejected as beautiful, but not romantic enough. Not a love poem.

B'Elanna found it: "Written on the Wall at Chang's Hermitage." Remembering Tom's crack about her acting like a Tabern monk, a smile reached her lips. As B'Elanna read the words of the poem, she recognized aspects of it that she had not seen in the cave of Tantrum IV. Tom had said it was not a love poem; and it was true, from him to her, it did not fit. But the other way . . . She, too, had been a wanderer, a seeker. She had found one with the aura of silver and gold all around him, who could be gentle and loving. A man who knew what it was to drift in an empty boat, but who had found a way to endure the drifting until he had found a way to believe in himself again.

Maybe it still wasn't exactly a love poem, but it helped her see what she was trying to avoid facing. B'Elanna's headlong rush away from Tom to go back to being strong, independent, but lonely B'Elanna had made her oblivious to much that was important. Meeting personal goals about standing up for herself were all well and good, but there was more to life than blind adherence to a personal philosophy that left no room for something that had brought her joy. Life truly was a journey, and along the way, Tom Paris somehow had become an integral part of hers. Instead of being stronger, she was weaker without him.

* * *

The service of remembrance for Kes was like every memorial service Kathryn Janeway had ever presided over, or ever been to, for that matter. A change to another level of existence, that could describe death, too. As the various speakers stood before their comrades and shared their remembrances of crewmate, nurse, and friend, those left behind clearly could not tell the difference either, as she had suspected would be the case. Without a body to inter into the depths of space, all present who wished to could cling to the ambiguity of her passing, permitting them the luxury of believing in the illusion of further life for Kes.

Harry and Neelix were being treated equally as the bereft family, she noted. Neelix had assumed the role of big brother to Kes over the last few weeks - had it really been such a short time since Kes and Harry had found each other? How incredible! The Talaxian and the Terran of Asian descent sat next to one another, accepting as their due the plaudits of all who spoke so glowingly of the woman they both had loved. Who was Kathryn Janeway to deny their joint right to it? Neelix had loved Kes for a longer time, but, she did not think, as intensely as Harry had. They had made their peace with one another while Kes was still on Voyager, and the bond between them seemed to be surviving now that she was gone.

The Doctor was bereft in another way. He had depended upon Kes for smoothing over the rough edges of his bedside manner towards his patients. Another assistant would have to be found, but who? That's a problem for another day. All that the captain knew, as she looked upon the Doctor's image, was that if any doubted just how far he had come from the computer program that had been installed on Voyager, one glance at his present expression of grief would correct the skeptic of his mistake.

Starfleet or Maquis, all who spoke had had nothing but good to say. After Captain Janeway's brief introduction, Tuvok offered a short poem translated from the Vulcan, "The Essence Continues," which, unlike his Talent Night offerings, was very well received. Gerron Tem, the young Bajoran science crewman, contributed the finale of the Bajoran _Chant for the Departed_ which he had begun the previous night. He had taken only a few short rest breaks, as Megan Delaney had informed her, but Gerron was just now concluding it. Chakotay, as always, had a parable to tell, this one about the transformation of sisters into stars.

Tom spoke next. After a brief remembrance of one he had loved, Tom read from an ancient religious text that suited the occasion all too well.

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven,

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to harvest;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to find, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Everything is beautiful in its own time. Eternity has been set in our hearts,

Although no man can see the whole scope of His work from beginning to end.

There were several others who said a sentence or two. B'Elanna Torres' tribute was one of these, consisting only of, "Farewell, my far-seeing and true friend." After this, Neelix gave a glowing tribute; and then, it was Harry's turn.

The captain had been dreading Harry's contribution from the time he had told her he had something he wished to present at the conclusion of the service. When it was his turn, Harry walked over to the wall of the garden courtyard which had been programmed on the holodeck to be the setting for the memorial service. As it had been hidden from her eyes before, the captain had not realized that Harry was going to play his clarinet for his concluding part of the program. The mellow notes drifted over the participants, bringing tears to the eyes of many. The tune itself was a merry one, but the undertone of mourning within it was palpable. Wise, wonderful, evanescent Kes. The melody fitted her perfectly.

When he finished, the captain gave her own short speech about always remembering Kes, the elf-like Ocampan woman with the never completely-tapped mental attributes and the warm, loving heart. Finally, it was over, and those in attendance drifted over to the tables, heavily laden with food, to share a last meal in honor of Kes.

* * *

"Captain, we'll be leaving now." Janeway turned away from her conversation with Chell to acknowledge Tom's statement.

"Fine, Tom. You have everything you need?"

"Yes, ma'am." His words sounded hollow. The serious events and the mood on the ship were having their effect on the young lieutenant. B'Elanna Torres stood a little behind him, solemnly nodding her agreement that they were ready, probably more than ready, to leave Voyager behind for a while. If anything, B'Elanna looked worse than Tom. The captain walked between them to the holodeck arch, a hand of comfort on each straight back.

"Are you both still willing to go through with this? We could send others who weren't so close to Kes and Harry."

"We need the supplies, Captain. Someone has to go," B'Elanna said simply.

"I feel the same way, Captain."

"All right, then. I notified the Telteskor traders and the Traveler's outpost about the reason for the delay in your arrival time. They were most sympathetic. Be careful, both of you. We'll be at the rendezvous point in five days."

A two person chorus of "Aye, Captain," sounded as the two young lieutenants exited the Holodeck and headed towards the Shuttlebay.

* * *

"Mr. Vulcan, I just have to say that your contribution was beautiful and will always be remembered by Mr. Kim and myself."

Tuvok accepted the compliment with his usual aplomb, suffering through Neelix's recitation of the virtues of all who had provided something to the remembrance ritual. "I haven't had a chance to tell Tom how lovely that piece he read was. Do you see him?"

"Mr. Paris has already left on his away mission, Mr. Neelix. He and Lt. Torres left over an hour ago. As it was, they had delayed their departure for several hours because of the service."

"Tom and Lt. Torres went on an away team, _together_, Mr. Tuvok?"

"I believe that is what I just told you."

"Who else went with them?"

"Just the two of them."

"Oh, dear. I'm not sure that was wise."

"I fail to see how the composition of an away team should be of any relevance to you, Mr. Neelix."

"It isn't so much about me, Mr. Vulcan, as it is about them. To have the two of them going off together at a time like this might create a lot of problems for . . . for the mission. A lot of problems." Neelix was becoming visibly agitated, Tuvok noted.

"Both Lt. Torres and Mr. Paris have been confronted with the loss of close friends before, Mr. Neelix. Mr. Paris, I believe, looks upon this mission as a way of dealing with the loss of Kes in a constructive manner, by being of service to Voyager."

The Talaxian did not even seem to have been listening to him. "Excuse me, but I need to talk to the Doctor with this news. I do believe that he will have concerns, too."

'How curious,' thought the security officer.

He thought it even more curious when the Doctor rushed over to him, along with Neelix, to confirm the trading mission. "I should have been informed about this mission, Lieutenant. There are some . . . existing conditions . . . that may have a serious impact upon Lt. Torres and Mr. Paris. Oh, Captain Janeway, Mr. Neelix and I need to talk to you. In private."

Tuvok raised a questioning eyebrow as his eyes met the captain's. After hurried negotiations, Captain Janeway adjourned to Holodeck Two with Tuvok, Chakotay, Neelix and the Doctor for the private conference.

* * *

"Lt. Torres is pregnant? Doctor, why haven't you informed me of this before?"

"It was at Lt. Torres' express request, Captain. I assure you, I had urged her to permit me to inform both you and Mr. Paris of her condition, but she refused to even consider it."

"Mr. Paris - of course, who else could be the father! Lt. Tuvok, you've been counseling Tom recently, haven't you? Is this the reason for the hard feelings arising between the two of them?"

"Captain, I do not believe that Mr. Paris has any idea of Lt. Torres' condition. He has been completely candid with me about his being unable to fathom why she has refused any and all overtures that he has made to reconcile with her. I very much doubt he would have concealed such an obvious reason from me."

"Captain Janeway, I'm sure Tom doesn't know about it. Lt. Torres accidentally dropped some padds in the mess hall, and when I saw that they were child care texts, well, I figured out what was going on. Because of that argument in the mess hall, I thought Tom might have been treating her badly, but when I mentioned that she should talk to him, she said she would . . . she said that I shouldn't say anything about it to anyone, especially Tom." Neelix hoped that the change of direction in his reply would not be noticed by anyone. He preferred not to have to explain about Lt. Torres' threat to space him if he told anyone. Although, now that he thought about it, maybe he should let it be known, just in case she was angry about his disclosure when she got back.

Commander Chakotay interjected, "One of you should have told the captain. Doctor, I would certainly have expected that this would fall into the area of the captain's 'need to know.' "

"And I would have told her, if Lt. Torres had given me the right to waive confidentiality in the matter. As it happens, there may not have been a pregnancy to be revealed within the next few days. She had an appointment with me for tomorrow for an abortion. One which, again, she will fail to keep."

"She had considered this option before?"

"This will be the third postponement, Commander."

The captain sighed deeply and covered her eyes with her hand as she walked away from the four male members of her senior staff. 'Oh, B'Elanna. So much strength, so much distance from your own feelings! Stubborn, self-reliant-to-a-fault, vulnerable B'Elanna. Such a heavy burden to insist on carrying alone. I would have talked to you, if you had only been willing to unburden yourself to someone!' Janeway stopped suddenly and pivoted back to the silently waiting men. "Doctor, did Lt. Torres spend much time with Kes lately?"

"I know they spoke on several occasions, but I was not made privy to the content of their discussions. Kes was aware of the lieutenant's condition, however. I had to inform her because she was to assist in the procedure."

Chakotay's eyes met the captain's. To top it all off, B'Elanna had lost her only confidante. "Captain, I recommend that we contact the Sacajawea immediately. If necessary, we can abort the mission."

Janeway grimaced at his choice of words.


	13. The Away Mission

"Sacajawea to Voyager. Yes, Captain?" Tom's voice was reassuringly calm and level.

:::_Tom, I would like to speak with B'Elanna.:::_

"I'm here, Captain. Is something wrong?"

_:::The Doctor informed us that you had an appointment that you will not be able to keep because of this mission.:::_

"Oh, yes, I forgot to inform him that I would be unavailable. Can you give him my apologies, Captain?"

The Doctor's voice emanated from the audio channel. :::_Lieutenant, I wanted to know when you wanted to reschedule this appointment.:::_

B'Elanna hesitated in replying. She knew what her answer was going to be, but if she made the answer ambiguous enough, would Tom ask her about it? Maybe she would be able to tell him, finally. But what if his reaction was not what she had expected? That might endanger their mission. Well, it couldn't be helped. They'd had disagreements before. She took a deep breath. "Doctor, I'm not rescheduling. Just cancel it. When we get back, I'll come see you and talk about our other option."

:::_Very well, Lieutenant. I'll see you when you get back. As SOON as you get back._:::

Tom looked at B'Elanna, a little confused by the Doctor's emphatic statement, but he said only, "Is there anything else, Captain?"

_:::No, that's all, Lieutenant. We'll meet you in five days or so. Janeway out_.:::

'Ask me what that was all about, Tom. Ask me,' she thought, inwardly desperate, outwardly calm.

"Lt. Torres, I have our course laid in for the outpost. It should be routine for the next few hours, so if you don't mind, I'd like to take a nap. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Can you handle it?"

"No problem, Lt. Paris." Nodding her head to him, a model of professionalism, B'Elanna's heart sank as she let her impassive fellow officer retreat to his bunk.

* * *

"Why didn't you say something, Captain?"

"It isn't my place, Doctor."

"It's apparent that Lt. Torres has not said anything to Mr. Paris. You are a woman, Captain. How do you explain her behavior?

The captain looked from the Doctor to her first officer, who was also sitting in her ready room. The commander had said nothing, but from the expression he was wearing, he was interested in her opinion, too.

"Sorry to disappoint you gentlemen, but the fact is, I haven't a clue as to why she hasn't told him. Tom may have been many things in his life, but one thing he has not been is someone who refuses to live up to the consequences of his own behavior. That's what got him thrown out of Starfleet in the first place. After his panic about the accident on Caldik Prime made him lie about the cause, he came back and admitted his mistake, paying for it with his career. I cannot see him turning his back on B'Elanna if he knew. He obviously doesn't."

Chakotay kept his gaze fastened on his captain. "I have to agree with you, Captain; Paris can be irritating at times, but he cares deeply for B'Elanna. Maybe being together on this mission will give B'Elanna a chance to tell Tom about the child."

"I certainly hope so, Commander," Janeway said wistfully.

"Hrumph. Well, I sincerely hope that I won't have to piece anyone back together again if she does," said the Doctor.

* * *

The trip from Voyager had been uneventful and extremely lonely for both of them. Tom arranged to be either sleeping or reading the entire time he was not at the conn of the shuttle. When he was at the conn, his air of complete detachment and almost impolite lack of interaction with B'Elanna killed any chance she had of feeling comfortable enough to present him with the news of his impending fatherhood.

Remembering how Neelix had found out, B'Elanna deliberately left out a few padds, turned on and running the child care programs loaded into them, hoping that he would find them while she slept and question her. The padds always were stacked neatly in her mission bag when she awoke, still switched on. He had apparently gathered them up without looking at them.

B'Elanna again thought seriously about just blurting it all out, but they had a task to complete for Voyager; she was not about to jeopardize their mission because she needed to confess she'd been withholding important information from him. The longer she hesitated telling him, the harder it was getting to say it at all. One thing about pregnancy, though: eventually, even a truly dense observer should be able to get a hint about what was developing by the sight of a huge belly waddling towards him. B'Elanna hoped it wouldn't take that for Tom to find out about this baby.

* * *

Considering their initial delay, the Sacajawea arrived at the Traveler's outpost in good time. The shuttle landed without incident. The representatives from the Telteskor Trading Consortium contacted them almost immediately. Lt. Paris informed Lt. Torres that as pilot of the shuttle, he was going to remain with the Sacajawea during the negotiations to protect the valuable crystals prior to their being traded. When the engineer offered to stay with him, however, the pilot insisted that she take a room in the inn at the Traveler's outpost. He reminded her that her primary mission was to test the materials being traded to Voyager to assure their quality. That task could best be completed at the lodge, where the traders were also staying. Confronted by such inescapable, almost Vulcan, logic, Lt. Torres acquiesced, taking a room at the inn and setting up her equipment for testing.

* * *

The Traveler's outpost was located on a grim, rocky little world circulating a red giant, perfectly fitting Tom's mood. When he was being honest with himself, Tom had to admit that thinking about Kes did not help his heavy heart. Deep down, the helmsman knew Harry understood that his commitment to this mission predated any inkling of the imminent loss of Kes, but this knowledge did not prevent Tom from agonizing over the fact that he was abandoning his friend at the very time Harry needed him most.

Worrying about Harry was not the main cause for his depression, however. The primary reason was the trip itself, which had been torturous.

For almost two days he had shared accommodations with a clearly preoccupied and distant co-pilot/crewmate/former friend/former lover. She was still suffering from bouts of fatigue, as far as he could tell. B'Elanna had been asleep for most of the time that he had been awake. When they had been conscious at the same time, Tom had avoided talking to her about anything other than the immediate needs of the mission rather than risk provoking her into a tantrum. Tom felt that if he had not had a good supply of his meditative texts from Tuvok to help him through, flying the shuttle into the heart of the red giant would have been just as bearable as the trip he had just taken with B'Elanna. While they had managed to preserve their professionalism, which hopefully counted for something, he was acutely aware that the return trip loomed ahead. He was not looking forward to journeying another two days with Voyager's chief engineer.

* * *

Their business did not take long. B'Elanna found the quality of the pergium, coradisium, and other rare materials was even higher than she had anticipated. The Telteskator traders were delighted with the quality of the dilithium crystals being offered for trade. The goods were bartered, the usual pleasantries were exchanged, and the shuttle was readied for departure by the next morning. As soon as they had clearance from the Travelers, the Sacajawea took off, laden with materials and two heartsore crewman, heading for the rendezvous with Voyager.

The beginning of the return trip passed without incident. The crates and barrels of minerals and manufactured compounds required for certain repairs of Voyager were hooked onto projections along the inner wall of the much-repaired Sacajawea. The dilithium crystals had possessed virtually no additional mass compared to the products coming back to Voyager on the return trip.

Tom spent an extended time at the console figuring out how the load would affect the handling of the craft and fuel consumption. Satisfied that all was in order, he settled back to take a nap in the pilot's chair while the Sacajawea was on autopilot. The second bunk was now half-filled by a crate that Tom did not wish to leave on the floor of the vehicle, where it would block the passageway to the shuttle's sanitary cubicle. B'Elanna occupied the first bunk. She slept for over 11 of the first 14 hours of the trip.

* * *

"Lt. Torres, what reading do you have for the structural integrity field?"

"Hmm. The SIF isn't functioning at peak efficiency. The field is down 33%."

"I'm going to compensate by shifting additional power from the inertial damper system...uh no, I'm not. I think the inertial dampers are the problem...I'm going to have to cut the engines so we can check them out." Tom pulled the shuttle out of warp drive, but the shuttle was still hurtling through space at an alarming speed. "Wait, Torres, don't get up yet, I think the inertial damper system is about to fail. We've got to cut our speed more to...wait, stop, B'Elanna!"

The sudden abrupt failure of the inertial damper system could have been fatal to both of the shuttle occupants. Tom had taken the engines completely off line, but not soon enough to keep the shuttle from bucking wildly as the inertial dampers failed.

Tom held onto the helm console desperately, but he was still knocked out of his seat and thrown back against the port wall. Fortunately, a bruised ego was the worst injury he suffered. B'Elanna was not so lucky. Since she had been on her feet getting ready to check out the SIF/IDF system at the time the of the shuttle's wild jump, B'Elanna had been thrown all the way towards the back of the vehicle, hitting her head against the rear bunk. When Tom was able to get to his feet he saw her sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, and with a profusely bleeding gash on the left side of her forehead.

"B'Elanna!" he cried. He ran to her side. There were no visible injuries other than for the cut forehead, but Tom was taking no chances. Before risking further injury by moving her, he needed to assure himself that her neck and spine had not suffered any breaks. Grabbing his field medic kit, he scanned her with his medical tricorder. It read a possible concussion, but no broken bones or serious injuries, much to his relief, although there was one anomalous reading. It was coming from her abdomen. Tom moved the tricorder for a closer scan. A few quick punches of the buttons confirmed the reading, identifying the source of the extra heartbeat.

* * *

When B'Elanna began to swim back to consciousness, her head hurt badly; and for a disorienting few minutes she had no idea where she was. Gradually, she became aware that she was lying on a shuttlecraft's bunk, her head cradled by a pillow, a blanket covering her. Her body jerked when she remembered. The trading mission. Tom.

At her slight movement, the pilot appeared at her elbow. She looked up at him, barely recognizing him from the grim expression he was wearing.

"You're going to be all right, Lieutenant. You have a slight concussion, and I had to treat a cut on your forehead with the dermal regenerator. But otherwise, you're fine." He walked away from her, up to the helm of the shuttle before continuing. "Or perhaps I should say that you're _BOTH_ fine. Of course, maybe that doesn't make you particularly happy - maybe you'd be happier unpregnant."

Her mind blanked out for a second. Pregnant. Who's pregnant. I'm pregnant and he knows. Gods, he knows and I didn't tell him. Staring into the dull, empty eyes of Tom Paris before he turned away from her to lean against the helm chair, B'Elanna wished that she could be anywhere but where she was, stuck in a broken shuttlecraft light years away from anyone else but the man who was the father of her luckless child.

B'Elanna gazed at Tom's back. Without turning around to face her, he said, vaguely, "I thought I couldn't even get you pregnant, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna's mouth was so dry she didn't know if she could have spit out any words even if she knew what to say. Finally, she was able to reply. "Let's just say I was never fully informed about my body's capabilities. My mother's method of sex education was to tell me, 'Don't.' "

He turned back to her then, and they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity to both of them before Tom walked back and sat down on the half-filled bunk across from where B'Elanna was lying. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and said softly, but as intensely as a shout, "Was it so bad being with me that you couldn't even _TELL_ me about it?"

"_NO_! It wasn't that," she managed to choke out. "I just didn't know how to tell you! What was I supposed to do? One day I cut your heart out with a rusty bat'leth; but a few days later, when I need you, I come back and say, 'Sorry, Tom, I didn't really mean it when I chewed you up a while ago. I have this little tiny problem, and I need you to help me now.' "

"Yes, B'Elanna, that _WAS_ what you were supposed to do. This is my child. My responsibility. What kind of man do you think I am that I would abandon you when you needed my help?"

He looked so lost sitting there. All the scenarios that had passed through her head, and somehow it never had occurred to her that he would look like that. So alone, so lonely. B'Elanna felt profoundly ashamed at her cowardice. Never was she more aware of her Klingon heritage than at that moment, when her sense of her own honor was besmirched by recalling her lack of courage. She should have just blurted it out - better for him to have found out that way than through a mechanical device.

After a long silence, she was able to cough out, "I'm sorry, Tom. I know you aren't that kind of man."

"How long have you known?"

"Not even two weeks. It was right after we . . . I mean . . . I broke up with you. I didn't know what to do, Tom. The way it is in Engineering - how could I raise a baby by myself? But the longer I waited to tell you about it, the harder it was to say anything."

"Did it occur to you to ask me to raise the child? Keep you out of it?"

"Oh, sure. Have her rejected by her mother the way my mother rejected me, or at least, the human half of me. 'And who is your mother, little girl?' 'I don't know, just some half-Klingon, half-human woman. I wonder who it could be?' "

He gave half a grunt. "You're right. That wouldn't have been such a good idea, I guess. But why didn't you think we could do it together? What we had together . . . Be' . . . it was pretty special to me. I made no secret what you meant to me. I thought for a while that we both thought it was special. What made you give it all up?"

B'Elanna had been thinking about this a lot on the trip. It was hard to put into words, but she tried. "Tom, I was caring about you too much, thinking about you all the time. Depending upon you too much. I just had to get away, back to being myself again, independent B'Elanna, who doesn't need anyone to make her happy." Her voice faded.

"You know, Paris, the joke was on me. By the time we broke up, it was already too late. I was already so much in love with you; I think I must have gone crazy missing you. And then I found out about the baby, and you didn't seem to care anymore. Here I was, not wanting to depend on anyone, and I was going to have one of the most dependent creatures in the galaxy depending on me! Then I didn't want to tell you because I didn't know if I was going to go through with having the baby."

His voice was even more full of pain as he stated as fact: "You were going to have an abortion, without ever even telling me about the baby."

She couldn't look at him. "At first, but Kes, she . . . she was talking to me. And the longer I waited, the harder that got, too. And once I stopped feeling angry and sorry about 'my pregnancy' and realized that I was carrying your child, . . . .I couldn't kill your child. Our child. I don't know how I'm going to do it, Tom, but I am going to have this baby now. Your daughter. That's what I was canceling with the Doctor. The abortion."

"Why do you keep saying that you have to do this alone, B'Elanna? I know you like being in charge of yourself. Boy, if there is one thing you've taught me, it's to leave you alone when you want to do something yourself. Raising a child is different, though. Have you ever thought that it is no accident that the advanced species almost always require at least two parents for reproduction? Maybe genetic diversity isn't the only reason - maybe it's also that offspring simply do better with more than one parent."

"I should think I do know that, since my mother had to raise me on her own. I've been so mad at her about so many things, but I guess sometimes I haven't been fair to her. She did the best she could all alone, trying to make me into the perfect Klingon woman warrior. She just couldn't get the human side out of me enough to do it."

"Did she really do it alone? Weren't there teachers, and friends, and other people to help? Besides, there isn't only 'Dependent' and 'Independent,' B'Elanna. There's also 'Interdependent,' when people work together for the same goal. I'm the best damned pilot you ever saw, but unless you give me the machine to fly, I'm not going anywhere. And you may be able to fly this shuttle, but in the middle of a firefight, who do you want in the pilot's seat?"

"You, Hotshot."

Breaking into a sad smile, Tom sat down beside her on the bunk. "B'Elanna, B'Elanna, B'Elanna," making her smile with him, as she remembered how he was always calling Harry's name out like that. "You don't have to do it alone. I love you, I have loved you for so long, I will always love you. I thought I've been in love before, but I couldn't have been, not when I see how I feel about you now."

"Then why have you been so distant, so . . . unemotional!"

"Didn't you know I was taking Vulcan lessons from Tuvok? The only way I could bear being around you even for a moment was to try to bury away my emotions. The meditations helped, but I've gotta confess. I'll never make a very good Vulcan."

They laughed together, and she took his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. Crazy, wonderful, did he have any idea how wonderful he was? She didn't think so. He was just as mixed up as she was about things like this.

"I love you, B'Elanna Torres. I'm not sure how many times I've asked you to marry me, and you've always turned me down, but I will still be your husband, if you'll let me. If that's too much of a commitment for you to make, then let me be your lover. If _THAT'S_ too much, then at least, let me be a father to your child. It's only logical, since I _AM _the father of your child." Tom interlaced her fingers with his before continuing.

"I need something more, though. I need you to be my friend again. I need you to yell at me, and to tease me, and to get hostile when I get carried away and try to push you too hard about something. B'Elanna, I've been feeling that Old Tom Paris, who didn't care about anything, especially himself, trying to come back . . . and B'Elanna . . . I don't want to be him anymore." As Tom knelt down in front of B'Elanna, she tried to look away, but she could hear the bleakness of empty vacuum in his voice.

B'Elanna finally looked up and saw what she could not bear to see. His eyes were glistening with tears he did not want to shed, and she began to feel a tightness in her own eyes, a dampness that she had seldom felt in her life.

"Tom-" B'Elanna choked out, then she opened her arms to him. Tom put his hands on her waist, and she embraced him, pulling his head to her bosom. Unsteadily, she went on. "I am your friend. A stupid, selfish friend. I don't know why you still want me, but I am grateful you still do. Tom-I'm so sorry. Please . . . "

There were no words for several minutes, only a few sobs and many caresses. Somewhere along the line, he gathered her up into his arms as they sat on the bunk in the back of the shuttle. Arms wrapped around close, they rocked each other slowly from side to side, comforting each other.

* * *

After they had both calmed down, Tom said to her, "Lt. Torres, Chief Engineer, ma'am. Would you like to check out what is wrong with this shuttle? I think the gravity field plate in the floor of the shuttle cracked."

"Since when are you an engineer, Mr. Paris?"

"I don't pretend to be an engineer, Lieutenant, but I happen to hang around with some of the best. And I do know shuttlecraft, as you have probably heard."

"I have, Mr. Paris. Carry on." He pulled her up from her seat. Lifting a panel in the floor of the shuttle, they checked the plate. It had a long hairline crack running down the middle of it. "You seem to be correct, Mr. Paris."

"Which means we'll be here until Voyager comes get us, since the replicator on this craft is nowhere near big enough to create a new plate like this. Unless you can weld it or something, B'Elanna?"

"No, that isn't advisable. We can't count on it holding up. The structural integrity field also depends upon this plate. We could endanger the entire craft by continuing on with a jury-rigged repair. How is the SIF holding up, Tom."

"It's fine, but there's no strain on it at all. We're drifting on the heading we were taking toward the rendezvous point. When I tried the thrusters on the lowest setting, the SIF fluctuated a little, so I figured it wasn't worth pushing it. We have communications, and when the captain realizes we aren't coming, Voyager will come back to get us."

"I don't think we should be surprised that this happened, Tom. There's a heavy load in here. And when you consider how often this shuttle has crashed and then been fixed, it was probably inevitable."

Tom kneeled down and replaced the panel. "So, let me guess, checking the gravity field plates in all the shuttles is going to be the first thing you do when Voyager picks us up."

"No, the first thing I'm going to do is go to the Doctor for his poking and prodding prenatal exam, and maybe a general one, too. I don't want any more surprises."

A huge grin slowly spread across Tom's face. "That's right. Dang! I'm going to be a Daddy!"

"Finally registered with you? We've only been talking about it for over an hour!"

"I just, you know, thought about what our baby might look like. Have you thought about that?" He tentatively rested his hand on her stomach, caressing it gently, as if he had finally absorbed who was housed within.

"A few times," she said with amusement, enjoying his touch. She could hardly believe it. They barely had been able to stand the sight of each other for days, and now, in an hour, they were back to being friends again. Being close to him brought all those old feelings back so clearly. She was acutely aware of his wonderful, heady scent. Her pulse began to thrum more loudly in her neck as she breathed it in deeply.

She wanted more from him, she realized. The touch of his hand on her belly and his scent must have sparked it. The taste of his blood was surging in her memory, awakening a hunger that became more insistent the more she tried to push it away. Not merely the _'IwmeQbogh_, the blood fever, this must be the _yatlhmo' ngachuqraD_, the sex compulsion of pregnancy that her Klingon pregnancy texts had described. B'Elanna was shocked at the intensity of her desire, but there was no doubt about it: she wanted Tom's body, and she wanted it now.

"So, Tom, now that you know, can you tell how my body has changed?"

"Not really. Your stomach is just as flat as always."

"Actually it isn't. It just looks that way because of other areas that have changed a bit more." At his puzzled expression, she told him, "Look up a little." Then he saw.

"My God, your breasts got big!"

She laughed, a little hesitantly, "That's what happens to pregnant Klingons _and_ to pregnant humans, I've found out. If you weren't trying so hard to avoid me, you might have noticed."

The purr in her voice dragged his attention back to her face and away from his intrigued regard of her luxurious bosom. The passion in her voice was unmistakable.

"B'Elanna, we're just making up here. You don't want me to pressure you into marriage, but falling into bed again immediately will be fine?" he asked incredulously.

"Make up sex, Paris. You've heard of it, I'm sure. I wouldn't mind it. It's supposed to be incredible. You're pretty incredible anyway, Hotshot." She was almost growling at him. Then she sighed, "Come on, Tom. Please."

"B'Elanna, _what _is going on with you?"

"Hormones, Tom. I want you. I have to have you. Now."

Then she was growling at him, unzipping the front of her uniform, grabbing his hand and shoving it under her turtleneck. He pulled out his hand abruptly, saying firmly, "Oh, no, we aren't. Not yet. We have lots to discuss before we jump into bed again. Just calm down, Torres."

* * *

"God, I'm weak. No Klingon or half-Klingon could possibly be interested in someone who caves in to temptation like I just did."

"You weren't so weak. You held off even after I stripped off all of my clothes and sat in your lap. I had to use my secret weapons to subdue you." Her pregnancy swollen breasts, held up to him after she had taken a big bite out of his left cheek, had finally been his undoing. She looked into his eyes. They were filled with a contentment that she was sure was reflected in her own.

"See, I told you making up would be a good idea."

He groaned a bit, but laughed too, as Tom cradled B'Elanna's head near his chest.

After a few tranquil moments, Tom asked her, "So, will you let me know when it is okay to ask you to marry me again? I'm not asking you to marry me this minute, mind you, I just want to know when you might be in a receptive mood to be asked."

She groaned. "Paris, don't you ever give up? Are you going to ask me to marry you every time we make love? Do you really think that getting married will keep us from having these misunderstanding or arguing, probably over nothing?"

"No, Be', I have no illusions about that. Marriage won't solve all our problems. We'll always have to work on compromise."

"We aren't so good at being open with each other and talking over things, either."

"So I don't always talk too much?" he teased.

"That's one I need to work on more, I guess." She stretched languidly against his long body.

In all seriousness, he rubbed her belly, lying against his own. "We have this little girl coming who deserves better from us than we got from our own parents, B'Elanna. The least we could do is promise her that we have faith in having a future together."

"Getting married didn't keep my parents together."

"I know, but it wasn't your fault they didn't stay together, you understand that, don't you? It was between them; it had nothing to do with you."

"If you say so, Tom. I have no way to know. So, anyway, I suppose since you are so big on all things Klingon, you are prepared to mate for life?"

"Yes, I am. I was ready the _FIRST_ time I offered to take the Oath with you, when we were in our den back on Tantrum."

"You would promise never to leave me, I suppose, the way my father did."

"No, I can't promise that, B'Elanna; no one can. What I can promise is that if I do leave you, my heart won't be beating, and there won't be any sign of life in my body. Unless you push me away, like I think your mother did with your father."

"What makes you think that happened?"

He was quiet for a minute. "Did you ever research the Starfleet archive file about your father that I suggested you should?"

"No." Her voice was distant, as it always was when she spoke of her father.

"I did."

"And . . . "

At that moment he did not wish to break their fragile peace by sharing what he knew, but he doubted she would be willing to leave it at that. "B'Elanna, I don't know for sure why your father left, or why he stayed away from you for so long, but I am sure that he cared for you."

"It would have been nice if he let me know it."

Tom debated how much to tell her. As much as he could remember seemed to be the best bet. "B'Elanna, Starfleet personnel files report that Lieutenant Commander Rafael Torres was killed in action during the Cardassian conflict in 2362. He left behind over two hundred messages for his daughter B'Elanna, all returned to him, unread, by his former wife, your mother. There were over a hundred messages to her, too. He had them saved in the archives at Starfleet Headquarters under the hundred year seal, along with his death messages for both of you. That doesn't sound like a man who left his wife because he didn't like the way his daughter's forehead looked."

"Tom, when I was in the Academy, all I had to do was ask and I could have gotten his messages? All of them?" All he could do was nod, then hold her as she sobbed.

* * *

A short while later, when she had calmed down again and seemed in the mood to talk, Tom reverted to the joking Paris. "So, are you ready for me to ask you to marry you yet?"

"Why are you persisting in this, Tom?"

"I thought I might be on a hot streak. After all, I've gone from persona non grata, to friend, to father of your child, to lover in a couple of hours. I figured I might as well go for the whole shebang."

B'Elanna adjusted her position so that she could look into his eyes, questioning, "Why do you want me, Paris? You could have anyone on the ship. There are probably women who would come onto Voyager to sign on for this marathon adventure just for the chance to be with you! Why me?"

"B'Elanna, you are the mother of my child."

"That's not it, and you know it. You were asking me long before you knew about the baby."

"You want another reason, besides the fact that I love you?"

"That's exactly it, Tom. Why do you love me, after I treated you so badly?"

He propped his head up on his hand and faced her, his other hand supporting her back. "I love you because you're beautiful - yes you are beautiful, don't you look at me like that! - you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known." He brushed her forehead ridges with the gentlest of licks and kisses, working his way down until he reached her mouth. After a satisfying kiss, he went on, "And I love you because you are the most exciting, _vivid_ woman I have ever known. There are so many sides to you. In the Vidiian prison, I met your human self and your Klingon self, but neither excited me as much as your half-human, half-Klingon self does. I love B'Elanna. I love Lt. Torres, the chief engineer. I love your intelligence, your creativity, and that wicked sense of humor of yours that, fortunately, I can appreciate. I know that I'll never tire of you. Next to you, every other woman in the galaxy is boring; and I can't have boring."

"Risk-taking maniac that you are."

He laughed. "That's right. The riskier it is, the more I like it. On the edge. I'll always have to be on my guard with you around."

Holding her body close beside his, Tom kissed her again and again. When he came up for air, he had an inquiry of his own. "Fair is fair, Torres. Why do you allow me anywhere near you? My personal history in the honor department is definitely below Klingon standards. I'm a pig and an infamous flirt, and-as you are always telling me-I talk too damn much. What do you see in me?"

Since she knew what she wanted to say but had not figured out how to word it yet, B'Elanna stalled. She got up on one elbow to look him in the eye, then thought better of it and swung her leg over his waist, straddling him. Her hands began to wander over his chest. He stretched his body and began to moan softly, murmuring, "So it's my body you want?"

She laughed, but with an intensity that spoke of much greater depths of feeling than only humor, "No, my fine specimen, although I do want your body, too, and I'll get it again soon enough." She bent down, placing both hands on either side of his head and kissing him deeply before continuing, "My lusty hero, I do want one part of you - but not that part you are probably thinking of - I can see that smile." She rubbed his chest again, tenderly patting the firm muscles beneath their covering of soft skin and red-gold hair, cherishing what lay beneath. "It's your heart. You have great courage, which is always important to my Klingon side, but you also have something more in there. I have never known anyone who has a kinder heart than you do."

"Kind, you love me because I'm kind? If that isn't like 'kissing your sister,' I don't know what is!" He grimaced. Being loved for being kind was not what he had wanted or expected to hear!

"Don't be a pig, Paris. Kindness is underrated. I would have liked to have had more of it thrown my way when I was growing up; I sincerely doubt that kindness would be the first thing that people think about when they think of me! Would you prefer it if I called it compassion? Self-sacrifice? That's part of it, too; maybe that's the link with courage. The truth is, you love others well enough to be willing to sacrifice your own life for them - you've tried to often enough. All that love for everyone on Voyager, even those who've treated you like trash, and yet I know there will always be enough love in that heart for me. _ME_. And you _ARE_ the bravest man I ever met, Tom Paris. The proof is that you want me . . . now that is really brave. Orcrazy. I'm not sure which."

In his eyes she saw love shining for her. There was more she wanted to say to him, but some words had always been hard for her to say. Finally, B'Elanna mentioned casually, as an afterthought, "I guess I should tell you that I love you, too."

"That's funny, I thought you just said it a minute ago."

Hugging him tightly, B'Elanna sighed. "You're right, I did, Hotshot. I just wasn't sure you could hear me."

"So, are you going to tell me when I can ask you to marry you again?"

"Paris! I can't believe you!" B'Elanna rolled her eyes in mock frustration. "What would we get by my saying 'yes' to you right now?"

"It would be one less thing to argue about."

B'Elanna stroked his face with her fingertips. How could the two of them hope to be happy, with all of the loneliness and pain they had already gone through in their lives?

His expectant face was before her, and those crystalline orbs staring up at her so hopefully were open passageways to the soul within. She had learned more about that soul in the last few weeks than any other which she had ever encountered; but, enough to trust him with the rest of her life? It was true that she had trusted him with her physical body on numerous occasions when he had offered his own to save hers, at times, when just he and B'Elanna were on a mission, at others, as part of the crew complement of Voyager which he was also busily saving.

Now it was her own soul, her very being, that she would be placing in his care. In order to do that, she had to rely on their having complete faith in each other, faith that no matter what happened, they would be able to navigate their way back to what they were sharing at this moment. She had never been very good at relying upon anyone but herself. Maybe it was time to change that.

B'Elanna relented. For some things, she finally accepted, there could never be any guarantees. The best she could hope for was the feeling that this was the right decision, and she had that feeling now.

But, it would be a good idea to have one less thing to get in their way.

She took a great, deep breath before leaping over the abyss, "OK, Tom, I'll marry you. Just to get rid of that one thing we always argue about." She planted a big, noisy kiss on his mouth, which he returned lustily.

"B'Elanna Torres. Chief Engineer. Wife. Mother. Miracle Worker of the Engine Room. I kind of like the sound of all that," he teased.

"Thomas Eugene Paris. Chief Helmsman. Husband. Father. Best Damned Pilot in the Delta Quadrant," she answered him. Taking his head between her hands, B'Elanna admired his clear aquamarine eyes, as he admired eyes the color of soft, hot fudge.

B'Elanna kissed him. Tom stroked the hair from her forehead, kissed her face and bit her neck. She nipped him on the shoulder; he suckled her sore breasts as she squirmed in delighted agony. She played with his flesh; he played with hers. They whispered each other's names as their caresses enflamed their bodies once more.

B'Elanna lifted herself over him and rocked back and forth, glorying in the feel of Tom's flesh embraced by hers, in the dance that has been danced for millions of years. In harmony with the beating of their hearts, they moaned incoherently as they celebrated the coming of a new life.


	14. Barefoot on the Beach

** Vows**

* * *

"No, Honey, don't touch that!" Samantha Wildman ran after her daughter, trying to prevent her from eating the object in her hand.

"Why don't you let her keep it, Sam. It's only a part of this holographic program. It can't hurt her. When you leave after the ceremony, it'll just disappear," soothed Jenny Delaney.

"That's not the point, Jenny. Naomi has to learn she cannot take something that isn't hers. And she also needs to listen to her mother. Naomi!" Finally catching up with her energetic toddler, Samantha detached the small figure of a horse from her daughter's hand to the accompaniment of screeches of dismay from the child. "I have a feeling we aren't being very helpful to you, B'Elanna."

"It's all right. I guess I need to get used to it." Involuntarily, B'Elanna smoothed down the front of her mid-calf length, silvery dress, stroking her slightly protruding stomach. "It won't be that long before I'm running after someone that small."

Samantha smiled at Lieutenant Torres. "You're right about that. It will come before you know it."

"I don't know how much more we can do for you, B'Elanna." Megan Delaney was scooping up toiletries, combs, and the like from the top of the beat-up dresser that they had been using for their primping session. Sam, Jenny, Megan, and Susan Nicoletti had helped fix her hair, had painted B'Elanna's face as much as she would consent to having it painted, and had helped her slip into the wedding dress. Although B'Elanna hadn't really needed their services, she had accepted them in lieu of the help she could not have. Kes would have really been thrilled with being here today. After she had helped B'Elanna deal with all of the turmoil of her unexpected pregnancy, sorting out her true feelings for Tom and towards bearing a child, Kes deserved to be here. Maybe her _katra_ was. B'Elanna tried to feel Kes's presence, but gave it up as an impossibility.

Snapping herself out of her reverie, B'Elanna insisted to her helpers, "I think you've all done what you can to make me presentable. Why don't you go down now and mingle. I'll just hide out up here."

"Are you sure you don't want us to tuck some flowers in your hair, B'Elanna?" asked Sue.

"No, no flowers. I'm just fine the way I am now. No more fussing! Go have fun."

"We'll send up Commander Chakotay and the captain to make sure you come down when you need to," said Megan Delaney. "Until then, make sure Tom can't see you up here. And B'Elanna, you aren't just presentable, you're gorgeous. Tom is going to love the way you look."

Saying their good byes and good lucks as they went, the four women and the very youngest female on _Voyager_, so far, left the chief engineer to her own devices for the last few minutes of unmarried life that she had left to her.

B'Elanna stood up to look at herself in the mirror. She liked the dress. It was simple, adorned with lacy openwork embroidery at the peasant style neckline that revealed plenty of cleavage. She felt fortunate that the dress fitted loosely over stomach and bosom. B'Elanna's pregnancy was visibly advancing, and a tighter fitting dress would have been irksome. While Tom loved her rapidly enlarging breasts and enjoyed stroking her stomach over their child within, he would not have enjoyed seeing her "Klingon side" erupt over a too-tight wedding dress. The dress uniforms that were Tom's first choice would have been even more uncomfortable. Instead, everyone had been asked to dress casually, in clothing more associated with a picnic than a wedding, as the bride and groom were.

From the window of "Tom's room" in the beach house holodeck program, B'Elanna could see the guests gathering on the deck below her. Uncharacteristically, she was peeking from the edge of the window to keep from being seen. Before leaving their quarters the previous evening to bunk with Harry for the night, Tom had given her strict orders that he was not to lay eyes upon her until the ceremony was beginning. 'Just another crazy human custom,' she had thought; but he had seemed so earnest about it that she had promised she would go along with the request. He'd said something about it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.

Considering the kind of luck both of them had experienced in their lives until their meeting on _Voyager_, following this ancient, harmless superstition did not seem to be that much of an imposition. Sitting alone in the embodiment of his old room was restful and calming. Right about now, she needed restful and calming.

* * *

"Tom, how are you holding up?" asked Captain Janeway as she hurried onto the holodeck.

"As well as can be expected, I guess, Captain."

"Getting cold feet?"

"Yes, but not that kind. It's from my footwear. Or lack of footwear. Why are you breaking orders, Captain?"

"She didn't mean me, too, did she? I thought that was a joke, and not necessarily a very tasteful one!"

"Yeah, B'Elanna got a little hot with me once she found out the connotations, but eventually even she laughed. She said that if we were going to be married on the beach and she had to be barefoot and pregnant, the least all of the guests could do was to be barefoot along with her, since she doesn't expect them to be pregnant. That goes for captains, too, ma'am."

Kathryn Janeway's laugh was full and rich. "All right, Tom, I'm not going to upset B'Elanna on her wedding day. She slipped off the sandals that matched the simple, cream-colored linen pantsuit that suited her so well. "Seven-of-Nine, you have to take off your shoes. That's an order."

The young woman who had followed the Captain onto the holodeck looked around her at various people standing around without any shoes. She had spent much of her life encased in tight-fitting clothing, mechanical fittings, and heavy boots. Seven-of-Nine already felt strange in the light clothes she was wearing, but the captain was looking at her with That Look. Seven-of-Nine removed her shoes.

Satisfied that her order would not cause an incident, the captain turned back to Tom and patted his jacket on the shoulders and arranged the pleated sapphire blue shirt so that it could be seen better beneath the soft gray collarless jacket. "Did B'Elanna pick this shirt?" she asked Tom.

"How did you guess, Captain? She wouldn't tell me why, though."

Captain Janeway considered Tom's shirt, the color of which enhanced his eyes while the design, with its low V-shaped neckline, revealed much of Tom's chest. The captain had a pretty good idea why this shirt was the one B'Elanna had wanted him to wear. "It looks wonderful on you. You all look wonderful." She surveyed the masculine portion of the bridal party with an indulgent smile that became tinged with sorrow. Tuvok and Harry were also in comfortable, casual civilian wear, although this did not prevent Tuvok from standing rigidly at attention. Harry was leaning casually against a post, but from his expression, he was feeling either nervous or sad. Considering how short a time ago Harry had been the happy groom and the events which had occurred since then to his bride, Mr. Kim could easily have been both.

"Dress uniforms would have been more Starfleet, Captain."

"Maybe, Tom, but I think most of the crew will have a better time with what you've chosen to do here, even with everyone barefoot."

"Thanks, Captain. After we talked it over, we decided that a wedding on the beach was the perfect way to celebrate. She likes this beach house program, and I have good memories from here. The Admiral didn't spend all that much time at the beach. So, we're having a party, with a short wedding to start it all off. You don't mind working today, do you, Captain?"

"That depends on whether I'm the one leading you in your vows or if I am playing 'mother of the groom.' "

"Can't you do both?"

"I guess I'm going to try." Turning to Harry and Tuvok, a gleam settling in her eyes, she asked, "So, gentlemen, have you decided yet who is going to be the Best Man and who is going to be the Man of Honor?"

Tuvok's left eyebrow slanted up towards the top of his head, but Harry chuckled slightly. "When they sent up that trial balloon asking me to be Man of Honor, I couldn't believe it. I thought THAT was a joke."

"It WAS a joke, Harry, but if you'd said, 'Yes,' we were going to take you up on it."

Everyone laughed heartily, but Harry and Tom exchanged a more serious look with one another. The previous night the two of them had spent hours talking about love, life, and death. "Each second is precious, Tom. Don't waste it on misunderstandings. Make sure that B'Elanna knows when you're joking, and when you're sincere." Tom had promised to take this advice from his Best Friend to heart. In these matters, Harry had become the expert by hard experience. Having an official title of Best Man in a wedding party had sunk to a very low priority for the widower.

An attempt at returning a measure of decorum to the group was made by Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. "I would have to say, Captain, that having Mr. Kim and myself both serve as Witnesses, without any formal designation of Best Man for either of us, seems perfectly appropriate. Of course, since I have no feelings to be hurt, my function at the ceremony could be anything, or nothing, whatever you may have wished."

"Really, Mr. Tuvok? Then why didn't you ever volunteer to be B'Elanna's Man of Honor?" asked the captain, amusement returning to her eyes.

"If Lieutenant Torres had insisted, I would have certainly complied with her request."

"That's why I wanted to use Klingon marriage customs, Captain. They have family members at the formal marriage ceremony, but there aren't any Maids of Honor or Best Men. I bet Klingons would like that terminology, though. Anyway, the entire crew is going to be our family today."

"Which is what they are every day, don't you think, Tom?"

"Yes, Captain, I think they are," he answered her sincerely.

Captain Janeway noticed Tom's attention drift away toward someone who must have been approaching from behind her left shoulder. She turned to see the tall form of her first officer walking across the deck, away from where they were standing. "Excuse me, Captain. I need to talk to the commander about something."

"Of course, Tom." The captain gave her helmsman, the son of her own mentor, a quick squeeze on the forearm as he walked past her.

* * *

Although Chakotay was not visible, B'Elanna could see the captain leaning casually against the railing, speaking and laughing with Tom, Harry, and Tuvok. Since, according to Harry and Megan, it would not be bad luck for B'Elanna to see Tom, she feasted her eyes upon him for a while, even as she wondered why the groom could be seen by the bride, and not vice-versa.

The Doctor was standing nearby with his holowife, Charlene, who turned to reveal the curve of her swollen abdomen. Two holograms, having a holographic child. It was such a surreal concept. Although this addition to his program was not simply to provide him with a replacement for the lost Belle, "Kenneth" had confided that he and Charlene were "hoping" for a girl. The sex of the holobaby was being left to the randomizing elements in the algorithms. Jeffrey and his Klingon friends Larg and K'Kath were around somewhere as well. The Doctor requested that they be invited, as he had been as eager as Tom for there to be a "Klingon presence" at the wedding. B'Elanna had reluctantly agreed, with the strict proviso that no daggers, blades, or other weapons were to be allowed.

Neelix was busily buzzing everywhere, checking on the comfort of the guests, seeing to the covered dishes of the meal he had catered, valiantly fighting a losing battle with the decorations that were blowing around in the holographic breeze, and in general, having the time of his life as he performed his self-proclaimed mission of Morale Officer. Keeping busy was good for him, now that Kes was gone. A glance down at his feet, however, made B'Elanna wonder if perhaps some exceptions to the "No Footwear" rule should have been made.

Thinking of Kes made her think of Harry. She looked back to where he was standing. He seemed to be holding up okay, but B'Elanna still felt a pang of grief. Kes' absence had been difficult for B'Elanna to accept; how much worse must it be for her husband? During the wedding preparations, B'Elanna realized that Kes had been the only female on board _Voyager_ whom she would have liked to have had as her honor attendant in the human fashion of weddings, other than for Captain Janeway. The captain was, of course, performing the ceremony, and she was therefore unavailable to acquit the function of "Maid of Honor" for B'Elanna. As one of the witnesses, Harry was standing in for Kes, in a way, along with Tuvok, but B'Elanna truly missed her Ocampan friend.

B'Elanna turned from the window and circled the room for about the fiftieth time, give or take a few. Tom had lost his virginity in the original of this room. The recreated room had a much bigger bed in it at the moment than it held during that momentous occasion. B'Elanna had threatened to have them spend the wedding night here, telling Tom she would create memories so exciting for him that he would forget all about any other lover he had ever had. Unsurprisingly, Tom had been game for anything his bride wanted for a honeymoon. "Being married to you is enough for me, B'Elanna," he kept saying. After all she had put him through lately, she accepted it as the truth. B'Elanna had another honeymoon spot planned where she could break a clavicle or two of Tom's if she wished: their quarters, although now that she thought of it, having this bed here might be handy, just in case she was overwhelmed with the _yatlhmo' ngachuqraD_ again. The Doctor had promised, perhaps a little too eagerly, to come patch Tom up immediately no matter where they happened to be.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, B'Elanna leaned down by the bedside table, pulling out a pile of books to find something to help pass the time. It was an eclectic collection. _The Count of Monte Cristo, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Sackett Brand, The Principles of Logic_ by Surak of Vulcan, _From the Earth to the Moon, The Right Stuff, Zephram Cochrane: Warp-Drive Pioneer, The Martian Chronicles, The Poetry of Paul Verlaine, A Catalogue of Ancient Automobiles and Parts, 47th Edition, Alice in Wonderland, The Cat in the Hat Comes Back_. The latter piqued her interest, since it was obviously a book for very young children, like _Green Eggs and Ham_. Glancing through the verses, B'Elanna began to feel a little warm, causing her to put the book abruptly down. This one she would have replicated in a permanent copy. For multiple uses, she thought, as a predatory grin spread across her features.

* * *

"Commander Chakotay, may I speak to you a moment?"

"Of course, Lieutenant. How are you doing? Aren't getting cold feet, are you?"

Tom grinned outwardly and grimaced inwardly. That was at least the twentieth time he had heard that quip today, and it was definitely getting annoying to hear. "Not at all, Commander. I'm ready to get on with it, the sooner the better. I'm more worried that SHE might get cold feet again."

The commander's sage response was only, "Not this time, Mr. Paris."

The grin became stronger and more genuine. "I'm happy to hear you say that, since I think you're the one who knows her best, other than me, of course."

Chakotay laughed. "I think that's safe to say. What is it that you wanted to say to me, Tom?"

The use of his nickname warmed Tom, and he decided that he had two things to ask of the commander. "Well, if you don't mind me calling you Chakotay, at least for today . . . " At the commander's assenting nod, Tom continued, "Chakotay, I wanted to ask you for your blessing. You're the closest thing that B'Elanna has to a father now, and, well, I guess I always felt that I should ask that if I were to ever marry anyone. I mean, if you said, 'No,' I wouldn't call off the wedding, but it would be nice to . . . have your approval." As he stumbled over the last words, Tom decided that it was stupid for him to ask Chakotay this. They had lots of history, much of it bad, and he was lucky that they had learned to work well together during the past three years. Asking for a benediction on a marriage was a lot to ask, under the circumstances.

Chakotay did not think it was a stupid thing to ask. "Tom, I would never second guess B'Elanna's choice of a husband, but even if that were not true, I would be happy to give you whatever sort of sanction that you may want from me for this marriage." The commander put his hand on the groom's shoulder. "I've been wanting to say to you for a while that I am impressed by the way you have worked to put your past problems behind you. You've changed a lot from the man I knew in the Maquis, grown up into a man that can be relied upon. I'm happy for you, and for _Voyager_, if you want to know the truth."

Tom looked down at his toes for a few seconds. This was more than he had hoped to hear, and he was gratified. "Thank you, sir, it means a lot to me to hear you say that. But you know, one thing that keeps tumbling around in my mind is that every good or bad choice that I ever made in my entire life seems to have gotten me here, to this moment, and to B'Elanna. Even some of the bad choices sting my memory a little less, now. It's strange."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but I guess that's possible. Although who knows, maybe you would have been serving on _Voyager_ anyway, even if all that didn't happen. But I'm glad that you can accept all that HAS happened to you."

The mellow interlude ended when the irrepressible part of Tom Paris barged in. "Of course, I am still going to be a wiseass at times, you know that, don't you, sir?"

Laughing openly, Chakotay replied, "That goes without saying, Mr. Paris! But you're going to be paying a price for that now, Tom. Once you're a father, you're going to find out the hard way about respect issues."

It was Tom's turn to laugh, a bit nervously. "Don't think I haven't thought about it, Chakotay. I have nightmares sometimes about being the same kind of father that my own father was to me. I'm going to try to model myself more on my mother, and maybe Captain Janeway, Tuvok and you, if I can."

"I think you and B'Elanna both learned the hard way about what NOT to do from your own parents."

"One thing I know we aren't going to do is to have any big expectations about having a kid that's the perfect Klingon warrior, or that we've sired the first Delta Quadrant-born admiral in Starfleet. It's going to be bad enough that she's going to be pretty well stuck going into the 'family business' here on _Voyager_ as it is."

"I have to agree with you." The commander looked around the rapidly filling beach house program. "Tom, shouldn't we be getting ready for your big moment?"

"Yes, I guess so. Oh, wait, there was one other thing I wanted to ask you, Chakotay." Walking over to a nearby table, Tom picked up an elongated white box. "Since you're going to walk B'Elanna 'down the aisle,' or as close to that as we can get here, I was hoping you would take these to her to see if she would carry them with her."

"I thought she was adamant about not carrying any flowers, Tom. You aren't trying to start a fight just before the wedding, are you?"

"Absolutely not! Don't push her! Just ask her to look at them, and if she wants to carry them, fine; if she doesn't, that's fine, too. I just thought it might be a nice idea. By the way, there's an extra one in there for the captain to hold, too, Chakotay, if she wants it. Give that one to her."

"If you want to risk it . . . "

"Hey, life is a risk, anyway, right, Commander? Chakotay, I mean."

The commander smiled. "It is, Tom. I'll see what she says. See you in a few minutes."

As the groom glided back to Harry and Tuvok, Chakotay shook his head, a tolerant smile tugging on his lips. Admiral Thomas E. Paris-not likely. The commander couldn't see Tom as admiral material; he was admiral fodder, the kind of man sent to do the dangerous missions who occasionally survived, but who more often perished heroically. For B'Elanna's sake, as well as for the child and for Tom himself, Chakotay hoped it would never come to the that while they were all on _Voyager_.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Captain."

Kathryn Janeway turned back from the staircase at her first officer's greeting.

"Ready to perform your part, Commander?" Her smile was a little hesitant, as if she were not sure how well it would be received, but it opened more naturally when she saw his own pleased expression.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Never thought I would ever be the 'Father of the Bride,' all things considered."

"How is the bride doing? Still nervous?" She could hear how formal this sounded but felt helpless to correct it.

"I just met Lieutenant Nicoletti. She says she is pretty sure B'Elanna just wants the whole thing over so that she and Tom can settle down and enjoy themselves, instead of all this fussing. She never has been one for a lot of ceremony and diplomacy."

The captain laughed throatily at that remark. "How well I know! But a new life together as man and wife needs some kind of special handling, don't you think?"

"I do." He smiled at the foreshadowing of the ceremony in his response. Nodding his head to indicate that the captain should ascend the staircase before him, he switched the white box he was carrying from his left hand to his right before following his commanding officer up the beach house stairs.

"Are you decent?" the commander called in to B'Elanna as he knocked on the bedroom door.

After a few seconds delay the bride opened the door with a sardonic expression on her face. "Actually, no, Chakotay, I've decided at the last minute to have a Betazoid-style wedding. Clothing off, everyone! You first."

The two senior officers laughed heartily as they entered the room. Captain Janeway grasped both of B'Elanna's hands in her own and gave them a quick squeeze before she walked to the middle of the room, turning slowly around to observe the details appreciatively. "Tom certainly has a way with hologram programming. Think of the time he must have spent with all of these details. Posters. Trophies. Sports caps. Is that a spider web in the corner, by the Parrises Squares mallet?"

"Looks like it," said Chakotay as he followed behind her. "If he's had the time to program all of this, he's obviously had too much time on his hands."

"That will be changing soon, though. In a few months, he won't be programming many holodeck scenarios, unless it's to create a park or a playground for a very small person." Janeway answered his smile with one of her own.

Enjoying her moment of relative anonymity, the bride sighed inwardly. B'Elanna held both of her commanding officers in the highest regard, but moments like this had been all too rare recently. Dressing in civvies always seemed to warm their relationship, somehow; and even if it were for that reason alone, B'Elanna was relieved she had scotched any wedding plans that involved the wearing of uniforms.

Holding the narrow box before him, Chakotay offered it to B'Elanna. "Tom asked me to give these to you."

"Not flowers! Chakotay, he promised me he wouldn't make me carry any stupid flowers." Grumbling, B'Elanna opened the box. Flowers. Her peeved expression softened when she realized what they were.

Three long-stemmed red roses lay in the box. Three and a half, she quickly realized. One unadorned rose, stripped of all thorns, remained in the box when she picked the rest of them up. Nestled among a small spray of baby's breath that formed a delicate cloud around the rose petals were two perfectly formed, half-opened roses and a tightly closed bud. Their stems were wound in a silver mesh ribbon and finished off with a multi-looped bow. One was a deep scarlet, the color of human blood. The other was more of a crimson shade, not a bad match for her half-Klingon, half-human blood, which, as she had cause to know, was of a decidedly purplish cast. The tight bud could have been from either rose, or even from some other variety that blended the two shades of red. Knowing Tom, she guessed the latter. Her resistance to carrying flowers began to melt as she realized the symbolism of the bouquet.

B'Elanna glanced up at Captain Janeway, who was gazing at the flowers with a contemplative expression, obviously comprehending the message Tom's flowers were conveying. B'Elanna held them out to Janeway, saying "There's a reason he had the stems wrapped on these; he hasn't had the thorns removed from them."

"You did specify no blades, B'Elanna," Janeway mentioned, as she carefully explored the mesh-wrapped stems. "If you want to go through with that part of the Klingon ceremony now, you can, without breaking your own rule."

"Tom wants to do it. I guess I'll go along with him."

"A good decision, B'Elanna. My mother always told me that compromise is the most important rule of marriage. It makes sense to me, even though I can't say I have any personal knowledge, beyond observing others, of course." The captain's smile faded, as she met the eyes of her engineer rather than those of her first officer.

"Compromise has never been something I've been very good at," said B'Elanna ruefully. "I think Tom is going to be working pretty hard teaching it to me-he's better at it than I am. If the flowers are his way of sending me a message about wanting the blood sharing, I guess I got it."

When B'Elanna put down the white container, Chakotay removed the last rose from the box to give to the captain. "This one must be for you, Kathryn. No thorns." Chakotay gently offered the rose to Captain Janeway. Their hands brushed against each other as she accepted it from him. Steely blue-gray eyes met deep brown eyes, exchanging a look that silently conveyed more of apology and forgiveness, equally needed on both of their parts, than usually could be expressed in many words.

Watching Chakotay with the captain, B'Elanna felt a contentment that she could not have anticipated coming to her so close to the moment when she was going to make a massive change in her own life. Suddenly remembering the reason she was standing in this replica of Tom's childhood bedroom, B'Elanna glanced out the window. The guests were slowly moving en masse towards the edge of the water. Clearing her throat, the bride stole back the attention of her superiors, stating, "Everyone seems to be moving into place on the beach. I guess it's time."


	15. Vows

As they moved down the stairway to the sandy beach, the small bridal party passed a jumble of shoes and sandals abandoned at the edge of the deck. B'Elanna took Chakotay's left arm; and, taking a deep breath, nodded that she was ready. B'Elanna and Chakotay followed the captain in a tiny procession toward the shoreline, walking to an opening in a circle formed by about 60% of _Voyager's_ crew. Those who could not attend the ceremony itself because they were on duty would attend the festivities later, but they were going to be able to listen to the vows over an open comm line. This particular pairing had been of interest to everyone on board, even though for some it had been because of betting that the wedding would never take place.

When the captain reached the open area in the center of the circle she turned back to face B'Elanna and Chakotay as they advanced toward her. To her left, flanked by Harry and Tuvok, stood Tom, his eyes locked upon his bride's face as she moved gracefully towards him.

Once Chakotay and B'Elanna reached the captain, Tom moved to stand near his bride, with Tuvok on his right. Harry quietly moved to B'Elanna's left, in an honor attendant's position, if not in name.

The only captain of a Starfleet vessel known to be serving in the Delta Quadrant stood quietly for a moment, catching a whiff of sweetness from the single rose she carried, mixed with the salty tang of the sea breeze. The warmth from the programmed setting sun grazed the side of her face as she listened to the cries of a gull that glided high above on the thermals of the air.

Her thoughts turned briefly to Admiral Paris. Her mentor was the father of this tall, vibrant man who stood before her, who was taking as his wife the beautiful, exotic woman standing by his side. Janeway's impression of her former commanding officer had been changed forever when she had learned of how he had raised his only son. She did not know whether or not the admiral would approve or disapprove of his son's half-Klingon engineer bride, who combined ferocity, strength and intelligence in her graceful body. Once, she had been sure Owen Paris shared the same values as she did; his true positions on these values were now complete mysteries to her.

In the same way that Janeway knew she was standing in for Tom's parents, Chakotay was standing in for B'Elanna's absent parents. They may have been even more derelict in their responsibility to communicate unconditional love and acceptance to their daughter than Admiral Paris had been to his son. She hoped that the commander was as happy for the couple as she herself was.

Smiling at her helmsman and chief engineer, Janeway began: "On this memorable day we stand together, crewmates and friends, the inhabitants of this traveling village that is known as _Voyager_. It is my great privilege today to perform the happiest and most satisfying of the duties assigned to a starship captain. We are gathered here to witness the joining in matrimony of two souls who have found each other far from their original homes-the union of two of our own, who now embark on their own journey of discovery through a new life together as wife and husband.

"Is there any one present who knows of any true and just, legal impediment to the marriage of B'Elanna Torres to Thomas Eugene Paris?" She paused dramatically.

Despite his sure knowledge that no such impediment existed, Tom could not completely quell the churning of his superstitious stomach. With his luck, even out here, somebody might be able to come up with something from his past, something that he could not even remember, to prevent him from marrying his love. His nerves eased as the only sounds heard were that of the wind flapping loose clothing around the bodies of the guests and the rhythmic sound of the waves as they crashed onto the shore.

Continuing, the captain addressed her chief engineer. "B'Elanna Torres, do you come of your own free will be married to this man?"

Softly came the answering, "I do."

"Thomas Eugene Paris, do you come of your own free will to be married to this woman?" was asked of the helmsman.

His answer was a firm, "I do."

At Tom's reply, Chakotay released B'Elanna's right hand from the crook of his elbow, placed it gently into Tom's outstretched right palm, and then touched his hands to the backs of both bride and groom, to give his own sign of blessing to their marriage. They looked back at him and then at each other as the commander moved back a step.

Once she again had the marital couple's attention, Captain Janeway went on. "Two millennia ago, wise words were written that are as true today as they were then. Tom and B'Elanna have asked that I share them with you." She opened a small booklet of old-fashioned design and began to read from it:

"If I had the gift of being able to speak in other languages without learning them, and could speak in every language there is in all of heaven and earth, but I speak without love, I am simply a gong booming or a cymbal clashing.

"If I have the gift of prophecy, understanding all the mysteries there are, and knowing everything, and even if I had the gift of faith so that I could speak to a mountain and make it move, but I am without love, then I am nothing at all.

"If I give away all that I possess, piece by piece, and if I even let them take my body to burn it, but I am without love, it will do me no good whatever.

"Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous; love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it also does not take offense, and is not resentful."

Raising her head from the booklet, the captain recited the last few lines from memory, her eyes shifting between the couple who stood before her and to one other, who was in the line of sight behind them. His own eyes were fixed upon his captain, filling with increasing warmth each time they met.

"Love takes no pleasure in other people's sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.

"Love does not come to an end."

The sea breeze blew softly, tossing clothing and hair lightly in the streams of air. Tom looked at the Captain, and receiving her encouraging nod, turned to B'Elanna to recite his own lines from memory:

"I, Thomas Eugene Paris, take you, B'Elanna Torres, to be my wife. I promise to love, honor and cherish you from this day onward; for better, for worse; in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad times, for as long as we both shall live. Take this ring and keep it as a symbol of my everlasting love for you." The plain gold band, which he had carried onto the beach precariously perched on the end of his right pinkie, was slipped onto the ring finger of his bride's left hand. B'Elanna had to carefully balance the flowers in the crook of her elbow with the help of her steadying right thumb to prevent them all from landing in the sand.

Then it was her turn. She looked deeply into Tom's clear eyes and said to him:

"I, B'Elanna Torres, take you, Thomas Eugene Paris, to be my husband. I promise to love, honor and cherish you from this day onward; for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad times, for as long as we both shall live. Take this ring and keep it as a symbol of my everlasting love for you." The gold band that she had slipped onto her right thumb just before descending the staircase from Tom's bedroom was placed safely on his left hand's ring finger.

Both breathed a smiling sigh of relief. Each had been sure they would ruin the moment by dropping the other's ring in the sand.

Now the Klingon part of the ceremony was to begin. B'Elanna and Tom recited a verse from a famous love poem traditionally said at weddings in the Empire, B'Elanna first in Klingon, with Tom following, in a Federation Standard translation:

_"bomDI' 'IwwIj qaqaw_

_tIqwIjDaq ratlhtaH larghIlj._

_'IwIlj je 'IwwIj wImuvmoH;_

_ej no'lI' je no'wI' wImuvmoH._

_'Iwmaj ghogh yIQoy._

_DaH wa' 'Iw. reH wItay'taH._

"The memory of you sings in my blood,

And your scent lingers in my heart.

Let us join your blood and mine,

Your ancestors to my ancestors.

Listen to the voice of our blood,

Now one blood. We are together always."

Moving the roses she was holding to her right hand, B'Elanna held them so that she and Tom could each grasp a stem where a thorn was visible, pushing a sharp point into the delicate flesh between the base of the left thumb and the forefinger of their left hands until the blood ran. Handing the bouquet to Janeway, B'Elanna clasped Tom's left hand to her own, carefully joining them where the blood welled up from the shallow wounds. Raising their joined hands aloft, Tom and B'Elanna first moved their hands to B'Elanna's lips so that she could taste their blood where it slowly welled out, before moving their joined hands to Tom's mouth so that he could do the same. Placing his right hand on B'Elanna's neck below the ear, fingers cupping the back of her head, his thumb gently grazing the tender flesh at the point of her jaw, Tom said softly to her, "_qaSaw rIntaH be'nalwI'_."

B'Elanna placed her right hand in the equivalent position upon his neck and jaw, answering him, "_qanay rIntaH loDalwI'_. "

When they finished speaking the Oath, the Klingon words of which Tom had been repeating over and over to himself in order to make sure he would not forget them, they both relaxed visibly, although their eyes were still fastened upon each other. Janeway's closing words followed: "By the power granted to me as captain of this vessel, I now proclaim to all that Thomas and B'Elanna are husband and wife by the customs of both the human and the Klingon peoples. You may now kiss the bride, Tom. _reH tuqIljDaq batlh_."

Cheers from the guests rang out, but the newly married pair did not quite hear them. Every sense was centered upon each other. Still holding onto B'Elanna's neck with his right hand, Tom lifted his left to the same position on the other side of her face. She raised her face and returned his kiss.

As their lips parted, they became aware of being surrounded by a sea of their shipmates. Harry was the first to reach them, kissing B'Elanna and giving Tom the hug of a brother. Neelix was next, effusive in his congratulations. Carey. Larson. Lang. Ayala. Samantha Wildman, holding her own little girl close in her arms. The Doctor and Charlene, with Jeffrey and his Klingon friends. Simms and Lamont. Hudson. Myers. Joseph. The crush of wedding guests gathered around them, offering congratulations in the form of words, hugs, kisses, or a combination of any and all three.

Tom was in his element, using every iota of charm and humor he possessed to bemuse the crowd. B'Elanna accepted the good wishes of her crewmates in remarkable good humor, even though she generally despised such a display. Tuvok had advised her that in emotional situations such as this one, the Vulcan would remind himself that it soon would all be over, until it actually was over. Surprisingly, the advice seemed to be working for B'Elanna.

* * *

As the crew surrounded the newlyweds, their captain stepped back to survey what seemed at the moment to be her unruly offspring, with one of the newest, Seven-of-Nine, standing close to her. The captain gradually realized that she was looking for one person in particular in the crowd. Her eyes searched until they found him, standing off to one side, waiting for the rush to be over before he offered his own salutations. His eyes met hers with a burning intensity that forced her to look away, but a few minutes later, she was aware of his quiet presence, at her side, as he always seemed to be.

"Captain?" he said quizzically.

"Yes, Commander."

"I recognized the last Klingon phrase you said. 'Glory to your House,' wasn't it?"

" 'Honor to your House, forever,' " she amended.

"Ah, of course." He acknowledged the correction. "But what did B'Elanna and Tom say to one another? I didn't catch the meaning, since the Universal Translator was set to leave Klingon words untranslated for the evening."

"Commander, those are really the words of the Mating Oath-the poem before was just window dressing for the ceremony, just like the passage from Corinthians I read earlier was. You could look them up, you know." A hint of amusement graced her lips.

"I was hoping you would interpret for me."

"Well, to paraphrase, Tom said 'I marry you my wife' and B'Elanna replied, 'I marry you my husband.' "

"The Klingons certainly strip everything down to the essentials, don't they?"

"They're famous for that, Commander."

* * *

Best wishes dispensed, most of the guests began to walk back up to the beach house as the programmed evening fell, ready to sample Neelix's special wedding delights and to rib him unmercifully if they turned out to be similar to his usual, barely edible fare. Chakotay turned to the former Borg, who was standing on the other side of the captain from himself. "Seven-of-Nine, why don't you go over and congratulate the bride and groom. That is what is usually done." The captain smiled at Chakotay's contribution towards her protégé's education.

"Commander, Captain, do I understand that this 'wedding' is to form a small Collective of only two people?"

"You could say that, although humans and most other races call it a 'family.' And in a few months, Tom and B'Elanna will be adding to their family when B'Elanna gives birth to their baby."

The young woman nodded in comprehension of the captain's answer and went to stand in front of the couple. "Congratulations. Tom. B'Elanna."

"Thank you very much, we are glad you can join with us on our happy day, Seven-of-Nine," replied Tom. The young woman took three steps back to allow Jenny and Megan Delaney and Gerron, who all lingered nearby, a chance to offer their wishes for happiness for the couple, even though their attention by this point was more on Harry Kim than the bridal couple. Tom noticed and waved his friend over. "How are you doing, Harry? I know this must be hard for you."

"I'll be okay, Tom. Thanks for asking." From his face, it was difficult to tell how much truth there was to his answer.

"Come here, Starfleet. I want you to give me a hug."

Harry complied, whispering into her ear, "Be careful with Tom, B'Elanna. He has a heart that gets bruised pretty easily." Her answering squeeze of his shoulders almost made Harry gasp, but he knew his message had been received.

More loudly, so that everyone still standing around could hear, Harry shot out, "You better watch this guy closely now, Maquis. He hasn't had that much practice at being respectable."

B'Elanna laughingly gave him another hug. "Don't you worry. I can handle him. Now, since there seems to be an opening for a playboy on board ship, why don't you go on up to the party with these two women who have been waiting for you. The rest of us will be coming along in a minute."

Despite the somber look in his eyes, Harry chuckled. Turning to Jenny Delaney and Seven-of-Nine, he held out an arm to each one and said, "Ladies, may I escort you to the party?" Seven-of-Nine watched as Jenny accepted Harry's arm, then copied what Jenny had done. The three started up to the party, Megan and Gerron following them after they had said their own best wishes to Tom and B'Elanna.

Tuvok approached the newlyweds thoughtfully. "Lieutenant Torres, Lieutenant Paris. I wish you a marriage as long, as fruitful, and as complete as I have known with T'Pel." As dispassionate as he looked while expressing the sentiment, something in Tuvok's voice conveyed his deep longing to see his wife and family again.

"Thank you, Tuvok. It's a comfort to know that it's possible to be married to someone for decades and still want to be with them." There was no hint of mocking or sarcasm as Tom said these words to the Vulcan.

When Tuvok turned away, the captain and the first officer were the only ones who had yet to offer their congratulations.

"Chakotay and I have been talking about being the father of the bride and the mother of the groom. I can't tell you how much I hope that all your troubles are behind you both." The captain's smile was a bit wistful at the impossibility of that wish.

"Thank you, 'Mom,' " answered Tom, accepting her hug. Janeway turned and gave B'Elanna an embrace before handing back the rose bouquet, which the captain had been continuing to hold from the ending of the marriage ceremony.

"I'll second that, Tom and B'Elanna." Chakotay shook Tom's hand and firmly embraced B'Elanna. The captain slipped her arm under the commander's as they turned to walk up to the house, their steps synchronized, as if they had walked together that way all their lives. The newly married couple watched them go before facing each other.

"So husband."

"So wife."

"Ready for the next step, Tom? Diapers? Midnight feedings? Childish temper tantrums? All of these serious repercussions that we've let ourselves in for?"

"Absolutely. I've had lots of practice with the temper tantrums already, just as you've had with childishness." She raised a fist in mock anger which Tom caught by the wrist, raising it to his lips for a kiss, before adding, "They're going to want the guests of honor up at the house, B'Elanna. We need to go up."

"Let's just take a minute for ourselves first, Tom. It's nice here now."

B'Elanna slipped her arms around her husband and laid her cheek against his chest, feeling his heart throbbing as it pumped warm blood throughout his body. His long, deceptively strong arms closely encircled her, his chin resting on her head, as they stood and listened to the waves break steadily in the gathering twilight.

Her mind returned to the first night they had truly been together, the first time she had placed her ear on his naked chest to listen to the beating heart of this courageous, kind, but insecure man. Huddled for warmth in a crypt built of stone columns, chunks of rocks and phaser-baked mud, their bed a pile of alien straw and Starfleet-issue emergency blankets, they had shared the taste and feel of their bodies without reservation for the first time.

B'Elanna did not feel anymore married now than she did that night. This whole effort had been more for the benefit of the rest of the galaxy, which from now on would recognize their union. She found, somewhat to her surprise, that that recognition pleased her. B'Elanna felt more at peace than she could ever remember being in her entire life. Raising her head to look into Tom's face she found him smiling down upon her. He gently placed his lips upon hers again, communicating to her that he shared her feelings of peace.

"It's time to go, B'Elanna, but before we do, I have something to give you."

"Oh?"

"I have a poem for you. And this time, it is a real, honest-to-Gosh, rhyming love poem. Do you want to hear it now, or would you prefer I hold it for tonight? I do have a few others, too, B'Elanna, but I thought you might like to hear at least one now."

"I would love to hear what you would consider a real, genuine love poem, Tom."

Elaborately clearing his throat, Tom recited,

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

"Tom, it's lovely, but that last line had better not come true for a long, long time."

"I will do my best to accommodate you, my love," he said, giving her a lingering kiss on the forehead.

In reply, B'Elanna gently drew the rose bouquet across his cheek, to his nose. Flaring his nostrils, he sniffed deeply of its fragrance and grinned at her. Tilting the flowers to her own nose, she drank in their scent.

Separating from their embrace, B'Elanna and Tom caught each other's hands and began to walk. Side by side and laughing as they supported each other, bare feet slipping in the shifting sands, wife and husband headed up to their celebration.

END

* * *

**Notes & Acknowledgements**

**SUMMARY:** B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris are stranded on planet with a severe climate and limited resources but find a way to survive using "biological means." After Tom and B'Elanna return to _Voyager_, they find there has been a change in the relationship of Harry Kim and Kes, while their own lives become complicated by some unexpected repercussions from their exercise in survival.

**CAUTIONARY NOTES:** This work of fiction is RATED R (M). People who are under age 18, or those who are offended by descriptions of male/female sexuality are strongly cautioned against reading this version. If the very idea of people rationally discussing abortions and premarital sexual relationships also upsets you, you might want to find something else to read altogether.

**RELATIONSHIP WARNING:** this is a P/T, K/K story, with strong hints of J/C. If your preferences are other than these, sorry, but you have been warned.

**GENERAL DISCLAIMER:** The Star Trek universe, including all of its characters, the episodes, and officially published works are property of Paramount, Inc. and Viacom. No infringement to their rights to this material is intended. This work of fiction was created for the enjoyment of fans, including the writer herself, and no financial gain will be realized from the writing of this story.

In addition to the characters, I have borrowed elements from many Star Trek: Voyager episodes, for reasons of continuity. I would like to credit the screenwriters and originators of certain episodes to thank them for giving me the opportunity to use my imagination in fitting them all together: Rick Berman, Michael Piller, Jeri Taylor, Lisa Klink, Jonathan Glassner, Adam Grossman, Kenneth Biller, Jimmy Diggs, Steve J. Kay, Brannon Braga, Joe Menosky, and Harry Doc Kloor. Thanks for some great stories.

Two characters, those of Ensign Jim Joseph and Ensign Elaine Myers, were wholly invented by me. The actual story as it appears here that is not otherwise the property of Paramount is copyrighted by me.

Many fanfic writers have helped build a mythology around _Voyager's _crew. Some of my favorite stories are alluded to by the titles of the books in "Tom's room" at the beach house; this is meant as a tribute to those writers for providing me with much enjoyment.

Thanks are especially due to two other writers: Tara "Uisge Jack" O'Shea first wrote of the relationship between Megan Delaney and Gerron in her stories "Shared Joy, Shared Pain" and "Trust No Glass." Tara allowed me to borrow that relationship for this story. Her comments were exceedingly helpful in writing this. Mere words cannot express my appreciation for the assistance of Terri "TerriTrek" Zavaleta, who graciously took much time from her own writing to help me hash out plot elements in this one. She's one terrific editor, too. Thank you, thank you, Terri!

And last, but certainly not least, thank you, AOL's Paris/Torres Collective for your encouragement and support, and to the PT Fever Mail List for encouraging me in writing this, as well as many other stories.

This story was originally written in June, 1997, but it has been revised a bit. At the time I wrote this, I had heard a few spoilers about "Scorpion" and "The Gift." I used what I felt I must, such as the addition of Seven-of-Nine. Much of the rest I discounted, however. I figured I would just use my imagination to describe how I would like to see the transition take place. Although I like what happened in "The Gift," I liked what I did here, too. While I did not knowingly and deliberately deviate from the show's canon as it stood at the end of "Scorpion I" when I wrote this, I took liberties by adding things for which there was little evidence. An example of this is the fact that Kes and Harry were not noted to be lovers during "Scorpion," but since Kes cries out, "Harry's in trouble," rather than "The away team is in trouble," when she first senses danger, I felt free to postulate their much closer relationship in this story.

* * *

The rock and roll song Tom tries to foist off as a love poem is "Light My Fire," by The Doors, written by Jim Morrison and The Doors, released in 1966 by Elektra Records.

"Written on the Wall at Chang's Hermitage," by Tu Fu, Tang Dynasty-8th century, translated by Kenneth Rexroth in One Hundred Poems from the Chinese, New Directions Paperbook, 1965.

"This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams, from Selected Poems, New Directions Paperbook, 1963.

"Sonnet XLIII" ("How do I love thee . . . ") by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Sonnets from the Portuguese as it appears in A Reasonable Affliction, 1001 Love Poems to Read to Each Other, Edited by Sally Ann Berk and James Gordon Wakeman, Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, New York, 1996.

The Klingon Poem is partially my own invention, but it utilizes two phrases that appear in Star Trek: The Klingon Way, A Warrior's Guide by Marc Okrand, Pocket Books, 1996. My feeble attempts at translating into Klingon were made possible by The Klingon Dictionary, also by Marc Okrand, Pocket Books, 1992 revised edition.

There are two passages from the Bible quoted: Tom's poem at Kes' remembrance service was from Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3, Verses 1-8 and 11. The passage Captain Janeway reads at Tom and B'Elanna's wedding is from 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verses 1-7. In both cases, I consulted with several, very different translations of the Bible, including the "King James Version" and The Living Bible, ultimately combining various parts of each to come up with what appears here. Think of it as the "24th Century Version."

By including these biblical passages and referring to Genesis within the story itself, I have not forgotten the fact that Gene Roddenberry had felt that religion, by the 23rd century, would be seen as ancient superstition. He may be right, of course. But with all due respect to Mr. Roddenberry, I personally doubt that faiths which have lasted for millennia, surviving Copernicus, Darwin's Theory of Evolution, and the advent of the atomic age and spaceflight, among other things, are likely to entirely disappear by the 24th century. I also strongly believe that because the Bible is accepted as a basis for much of Earth's cultural history and is studied even today by people of all faiths as a great literary achievement, these references will not be unknown to the crew of a starship such as _Voyager_. Indeed, in a time of universal translators, travel by transporter beam, and faster-than-light space travel, some of these passages would actually have even more resonance than they do today, whatever the personal belief systems of the crewmembers might be, as long as men and women still live, love, dance, and die.

J.A. Toner, AKA Jamelia116 . - July, 1997 - Rev. 3/98


End file.
